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PATH OF PEACE: 

OR 

A PRACTICAL GUIDE 



DUTY AND HAPPINESS. 



BY JOHN S. C. ABBOTT, 

Author of " Mother at Home," and " Child at Home." 




BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, 

47, Washington Street. 
NEW YORK:— LEA VITT, LORD, AND CO., 

180, Broadway. 

1836. 






Entered according to Act of Congress ; in the year 1836, 

BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



« (/ (S P 



THE MEMBERS 



THE ELIOT CHURCH AND SOCIETY, 



THIS LITTLE TREATISE 



J£s affectionately 50etrtcatetr 



THEIR FRIEND AND PASTOR, 



John S. C. Abbott. 



PREFACE. 



Can that person be a christian, who is so 
unamiable in character, that his companion- 
ship is undesirable? Is devotional feeling ac- 
ceptable to God, when unaccompanied by the 
graces of a generous and a lovely spirit? And 
yet how many christians are there, who are 
any thing but agreeable companions or desira- 
ble friends! 

"Mother," said a little boy, "I do not wish 
to go to Heaven." 

"And why not my son?" 

"Why Grandfather will be there, will he 
not?" 

"Yes, my son, I hope he will." 

"Well, as soon as he sees us, he will come 
scolding along, and say, 'Whew, whew, whew, 
what are these boys here for.' I am sure I 
do not wish to go to Heaven, if Grandfather 
is to be there." 



VI PREFACE. 

Who has not been conscious of similar 
feelings? How many professing christians are 
there, with whom one could not live happily, 
even in Heaven, unless their characters should 
be greatly changed. 

It is of the utmost importance, — it is abso- 
lutely essential to christian character, that we 
should cultivate those devotional feelings, in- 
culcated in the iuvaluable writings of Baxter, 
Taylor and Doddridge, but it is no less essen- 
tial that that we should accustom ourselves to 
whatsoever things are true, honest and just, 
pure, lovely and of good report. Moral char- 
acter and devotional feelings have been, theo- 
retically and practically too much disjoined. 
It is our object in this book to inculcate their 
holy and indissoluble alliance, and thus to shew 
how we should live to be happy ourselves, to 
promote the happiness of others, and to pre- 
pare for the joys of Heaven. 

Roxbury, Sept 1. 1836. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Merriment is not Happiness. 



A Sabbath scene in Baltimore. Scene in Pittsburgh. The dying 
child. The fashionable lady. Why affliction is sent. The 
pious lady. The contrast. Sabbath amusements. Family 
devotion. The design of the book, page 13 

CHAPTER II. 

Moral Culture. 

Communion with God essential to happiness. The efficacy of 
faith. The fretful Christian. Secret prayer. A grateful spirit 
eEsential to happiness, The guilt of ingratitude. Cheerfulness 
to be cultivated. A gloomy wife and mother. Her sad influ- 
ence upon her husband and son. The whist party. The moral 
power of cheerfulness. An affectionate spirit essential to hap- 
piness. The heartless family. The influence of affectionate 
feelings in shielding from temptation. Avoid selfishness. The 
winter night's ride. Decision of character. Stubbornness. 
The drowning man, 42 

CHAPTER III. 

The Family. 

Dome stic happiness. Parental responsibilities. Family prayer. 
Duty to domestics. Catholic servants. The diffident man. 



V1H CONTENTS. 

.Religious instruction. The neglected family. Sons of the 
wealthy. Religious toleration. The divided family. The 
intolerant father. To promote temporal happiness a duty. 
Anecdote of Newton. Interest in children's studies. The 
votary of pleasure. Chesterfield, 79 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Church. 

Packet ships. The voyage. Ecclesiastical organizations. The 
duty of making a profession of religion. The church member's 
duty. Attending church meetings. The duty of the pious 
wife, whose husband is not a Christian. Friendly intercourse. 
Contention in churches. Different stations in life. Importance 
of harmony, Ill 

CHAPTER V. 

Your Neighbor. 

Anecdote. Why Christians are often hated. Duties to our fel- 
lows. 1. Be honest. Examples of common dishonesty. The 
lady shopping. The embarrassed merchant. The oppressive 
lawyer. Anecdote by Rowhnd Hill. 2. Be generous. The 
miserly clergyman. Why God asks for money. 3. Be open- 
hearted. The manocuverer. The prudent man. 4. Be polite. 
The uncivil clergyman. Incivility is sin. The drover. Rules 
of politeness drawn from the Bible. The "plain spoken" 
man. 5. Be a good neighbor. Anecdotes. The two neigh- 
bors* The Dutch gentleman. 6. Take an interest in the spir- 
itual welfare of your neighbors. What is Eternity. The 
way to influence, 150 



CHAPTER I. 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

Not many months since I passed a sabbath 
in Baltimore. As I came from church, in the 
afternoon, I saw half a dozen young men sitting 
around their wine, at the table they had not left 
since dinner. Fumes of tobacco filled the room. 
Their faces were flushed with wine and mirth. 
With the sparkling glass in one hand, and the 
lighted cigar in the other, their voices were just 
bursting forth in the riotous song, 

Old king Cole was a jolly old soul, 

And a jolly old soul, was he, was he; 

He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl, 

And he called for his fiddlers, three. 

I stood, for a moment, upon the stairs, and 
looked in upon this scene of revelry — upon this 
band of precocious yet apparently confirmed in- 
ebriates. And this, thought I, is a practical 

2 



14 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

exhibition of infidelity. These are the joys 
which irreligion offers its votaries. In this school 
infidelity would train up our young men, and 
with these characters she would fill our land. 

A short time after this, I was in Pittsburg. 
As I sat at my chamber window enjoying the 
mild, balmy air of one of the most lovely sabbath 
mornings in June, no sound disturbed the sacred 
silence, but the notes of a christian hymn, com- 
ing faintly, yet sweetly from an adjoining room. 
I listened and heard several youthful voices 
uniting with the rich voice, of apparently the 
husband and father, in the following words. 

No more fatigue no more distress, 
Nor sin, nor death, shall reach the place. 
No groans shall mingle with the songs, 
Which warble from immortal tongues. 

And this, thought I, is a practical exhibition 
of Christianity. These are the joys, the ennob- 
ling, purifying, joys, which religion confers. 
These are the moral influences with which it 
would surround every individual of the human 
race. It would seem that the infidel, himself, 
could not hesitate to choose under which he 
would have a son or a daughter educated. They, 
whose hearts are attuned to the melody of such 
hymns, and who are nurtured under the influ- 
ence of such a home, have entered the paths of 
peace. 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 15 

Many who will peruse these pages have, per- 
haps, long been seeking happiness in vain. Dis- 
appointment has thus far accompanied your 
search. You are dissatisfied with the present 
and have no joyful anticipations to light up the 
future. We would guide you in a better way. 
We would lead you to fountains of pure and un- 
failing joy. God has shewn us where those 
fountains are, and if we follow His directions 
we shall not seek them inwain. 

The promotion of happiness, is the great ob- 
ject which God has in view in all His operations. 
For this He made men free; for this He gave 
His law. Every sorrow which is sent to the 
human heart, is sent in love, to promote real 
and permanent enjoyment. He never willingly 
afflicts. When the heart is crushed with the 
heaviest weight of affliction, the voice of God 
declares, that this affliction is the means, which 
He is using, to banish sorrow forever, and to fill 
the heart with joy. Yes! God loves happiness, 
and is now, in every part of the universe, adopt- 
ing those plans which to Him seem most effect- 
ual for the fulfilment of His benevolence. 

Do you question this assertion? Does your 
mind revert to some chamber of pain and death 



16 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

where God has sent the destroying angel to 
blight every earthly joy, and to accumulate 
anguish, which shall for years oppress the heart, 
by night and by day? Let us then enter this 
chamber, and study the meaning of this mystery. 
How pale the cheek and dim the eye of this 
little sufferer. Her feeble moan is so affect- 
ingly pensive, that tears gush from the eyes of 
every beholder. She is a mother's only daugh- 
ter; the choicest treasure of all God's gifts. But 
the hand of death is upon her. Medical skill 
has been in vain. Prayers and tears have been 
unavailing. The last hour has come. The 
child is dying. Extended on her little bed, 
with folded hands and fixed eyes she is heavily 
drawing her last breath, as her spirit struggles 
to be free. The mother, half delirious with 
days and nights of sleeplessness and toil, is 
unfortified for the heart rending scene. She 
is overwhelmed with agony, — unutterable agony. 
With frantic step she hurries to the bed, and 
covers the cheek of her dying child with burn- 
ing kisses. She sinks into a chair, by the bed 
side, apparently exhausted with emotion, when 
suddenly anguish gives her new strength, and 
wringing her hands, she hurries to and fro 
through the apartment, exclaiming, "my child 
is dying; my child is dying; oh! she must not 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 17 

die; God have mercy, have mercy, on her poor 
mother." Does God stay his hand? No! 
Look at the little sufferer. Her convulsions 
become more frequent and more severe. She 
tries to say "dear mother." But she only 
articulates enough to let us know what she 
would say, and to plunge a new arrow of agony 
into the mother's heart. Even the groans of the 
dying child are lost in the loud lamentations of 
the distracted parent. Is this a picture of the 
imagination? no! They, who are in the habit 
of visiting chambers of sickness, know that we 
faintly paint, from reality. Are such scenes 
unfrequent? No! They are occurring every 
hour of every day. 

God has but to say the word and the disease 
is removed, and the child rises from her bed in 
health and beauty. It requires not the least 
exertion on the part of God to sweep away all 
this sorrow, and to fill the dwelling with the 
most rapturous joy. And why does not God do 
it? Because he loves to see his children happy. 
He has perhaps tried all other means to wean 
this mother's heart from sin, that she might be 
really and permanently happy in Heaven. This 
is His last resort, to make her happy. He lays 
his hand upon her darling child, and He thus 

speaks to her in a voice more loud and more 

*2 



18 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

impressive than He could in any other way. 
And does He thus plead in vain? If He does, 
it is because she refuses to yield to the efforts, 
which God makes, to save her from sorrow, and 
to make her the child of uninterrupted and 
unending joy. This is the object God has in 
view. It is one of the most signal evidences 
of the efforts God makes to save from sorrow. 
In a few days call in to that dwelling again, and 
perhaps you will see the mother calm and 
peaceful. She speaks of God and Heaven, in a 
manner which shows you at once that she has 
entered a new world of joy. She smiles, in the 
midst of her tears, as she speaks of that happy 
world to which she trusts her child has gone, 
and already, in gratitude, she blesses God that 
she has been afflicted. And in succeeding 
years, as she draws nearer her heavenly home, 
she thanks God with more fervor, that He, by 
the death of her child, led her to think of the 
salvation of her soul. And when she is taking 
her departure from the world, she says that the 
choicest blessing she had on earth was the voice 
which came to her heart through her dying 
child. God assures us that He never willingly 
afflicts. He has filled Heaven with joy, and, 
would we yield to His directions and His 
pleadings, He would imbue every heart with 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 19 

the spirit of Heaven and fill earth with happi- 
ness. 

God has told us what feelings we must 
cherish, and what habits we must cultivate, if 
we would be happy. And He has urged us by 
the most powerful of all possible considerations 
to pursue the path He has thus marked out. 
He assures us that then we shall please Him, 
and exhibit to the universe the purity of His 
benevolence and the perfection of His plans; 
that thus we shall promote the happiness of all 
God's creatures, and saving ourselves from 
ceaseless remorse, shall be elevated to dwell in 
His courts, and to share in dignity and joy, 
such as earthly eye has never seen, or earthly 
heart conceived. 

It will be my object in this little treatise, to 
guide the reader to these habits of feeling and 
of life. The Bible is the teacher whose direc- 
tions I shall follow. In explaining and illus- 
trating the principles of its instructions, I feel 
confident that I am directing my readers to 
sure and unfailing enjoyment. Your toil here 
will most certainly be accompanied with suc- 
cess. Here you cannot seek in vain. Even if, 
for a season, your efforts appear to be unavail- 
ing, the most triumphant success will be your 
final accomplishment. Why do so many pass 



20 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

their lives in the fruitless pursuit of pleasure, 
and find in a dying hour that the past has been 
but a dream of vanity, and that the most fearful 
uncertainty clouds the future with gloom. It is 
because, disobeying the directions of God, they 
have sought enjoyment in regions where God 
assures them that only disappointment and sor- 
row can be found. They have forsaken the plain 
path which God marked out for them, and en- 
tering the wilderness of forbidden allurements, 
have wandered and perished amid its glooms. 

Life is strewed with the wrecks of temporal 
and eternal happiness. Wherever the eye ran- 
ges, or thought penetrates, we find the memo- 
rials of disappointment and spiritual ruin. 
Look at this young lady. She seems formed by 
God, to be the recipient and the distributer of 
the most pure and unalloyed enjoyment. Her 
Heavenly Father has conferred upon her the 
endowments of a good mind and an affectionate 
heart. He has surrounded her with every 
essential to earthly comfort, and placing the 
Bible in her hands to guide her from the rocks 
and quick-sands, which endanger her present 
and future happiness, bids her obey its direc- 
tions and be blest forever. What does she do? 
Why, with an infatuation which is almost incon- 
ceivable, she places the Bible upon her shelf 



MERRIMENT TS NOT HAPPINESS. 21 

unexamined, and plunges headlong into the 
midst of those very dangers against which it so 
affectionately warns her. Day after day, her 
heart is oppressed with the ravages of disap- 
pointment and chagrin; and yet her impetuous 
career of thoughtlessness is unchecked. Watch 
her movements as she glitters in the illumined 
halls of gaiety. Her heart throbs in sympathy 
with "music's voluptuous swell." She is half 
intoxicated with the excitement of the scene. 
In graceful measures she is gliding through the 
giddy mazes of the dance, and for a moment 
finds, perhaps, the counterfeit semblance of joy. 
And yet the semblance is faint indeed. Rest- 
lessness and vague anxiety rebuke her when 
she says, "I have now found happiness." And 
when, long after the hour of midnight, she re- 
turns exhausted to her home, and her silent 
chamber, and commits her throbbing head to 
the pillow, the conflicting emotions of her bosom 
are so turbulent and stormy, that she is a stran- 
ger, not merely to happiness, but even to seren- 
ity of mind and to the composure of ordinary 
peace. She feels dissatisfied with herself, she 
hardly knows why. In feverish dreams the 
morning wears away. And when late she rises, 
languid and dejected, to toil painfully through 
the hours of the day, she is constrained to admit 



22 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

that the pleasure of the moment was most dear- 
ly bought. She is sadly disappointed in her 
pursuit, and yet, as she knows not where else to 
look for joy, she continues in a kind of submis- 
sive desperation, to be borne onward by the 
crowd with which she mingles. Now why is 
she not happy? Simply because she is seeking 
happiness in the wrong place — in a place where 
happiness never has been, and never can be 
found. If she would attend to the directions 
which God has given her, she would know at 
once that it would be perfect folly to seek true 
enjoyment in such scenes. But she does not 
heed these directions. If, at times, she allows 
her eye to glance over them, it is with careless 
thought, or with a guilty feeling, that few as 
her enjoyments are, God would make them still 
less. 

God never prohibits any tiling which really 
and permanently promotes our happiness. When, 
in His word, He cautions us against any world- 
ly allurement, it is because it is an allurement 
to sorrow, and not to joy. When He enjoins 
upon us any duty, or any act of self-denial, it is 
because obedience to that injunction will pro- 
mote the reign of peace and joy in the heart. 
But the fashionable lady, in the whirl of gaiety 
and exciting show, does not believe this; she 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 23 

sees no beauty in those peaceful walks to 
which her Father's hand would guide her. The 
shades, which God assures her will be soothing 
and refreshing, to her appear dark and gloomy. 
She has not confidence in God's declarations, 
and breaks away from His hand, to pursue the 
false glitter against which He warns her. At 
last she wakes from this exciting dream, but 
she awakes not to life, but to death. In the 
chamber of silence and pain she reviews her 
worthless life, and weeps in bitterness of spirit 
to find that she has lived in vain, and is going 
down to an unhonored grave. In the retrospect 
of her privileges and opportunities for doing 
good, she can hardly find an event upon which 
her mind reposes with pleasure. The past is 
all one dead level of uselessness, she has lived 
for herself alone, and yet she has done herself 
no good. She has passed her life in the pursuit 
of pleasure, and is now, at its close, farther 
than ever from the attainment of her object. 
Death is coming to claim her armed with ter- 
rors. The grave is dark and dreadful. For 
judgment she is all unprepared; the Savior is a 
stranger to her; the spirit has ever been grieved 
away, and all the talents which were entrusted 
to her keeping, have been uncultivated. She 
has nothing to look forward to, but guilt 



24 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

and shame. She utters loudly in the ears of 
weeping friends, the language of lamentation 
for her folly, and dies, leaving her sad history a 
warning to others, that God knows, better than 
we, what will promote the happiness of the crea- 
tures He has made. 

But the question again arises, why does God 
prohibit the pursuit of pleasure, in those scenes, 
which, to say the least, appear alluring to the 
youthful heart? The prohibition seems not to 
be the arbitrary decision of God, but has its 
foundation in the very nature of man. God has 
not placed us in the midst of scenes capable of 
affording us real enjoyment, and then com- 
manded us to abstain from these enjoyments. 
He has created us but little lower than the an- 
gels, with minds immortal, and capable of 
infinite expansion, and burning with desires for 
angelic joys. In trivial pursuits, we can find 
nothing which affords satisfaction to minds cre- 
ated with such noble endowments. The well 
fed kitten finds its congenial element of joy, 
when frisking by the fireside. These joys are 
adapted to its nature. But this young lady, 
who seeks enjoyment in the color of a ribbon, or 
in the frivolities of fashion, is out of her element. 
She is an immortal being, and has stooped 
to things too trivial for an immortal mind; and 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 25 

until God degrades her mind, and gives her a 
lower place in the scale of being, she can not 
satisfy the aspirations of her soul with such 
emptiness and vanity. She wonders why she is 
not happy. She has forgotten her rank in the 
scale of being! She has forgotten who is her 
Father! She has forgotten that she is the heiress 
of all heaven's treasure! She brings her immor- 
tal mind, with its vast capacities, with its un- 
limited powers, to seek enjoyment in those friv- 
olities, which are only adapted to the nature of 
the playful kitten, or the sportive lamb! And 
yet she wonders why she is not happy! 

It is true that the frown of God is upon us, 
when we thus forget our nature and our destiny. 
But it is not His frown alone which darkens 
our sky. The empty void of the heart, so uni- 
versal, as to have become a proverb, with all 
nations, and at every age, can only be filled by 
the pursuit of objects adapted to the elevation 
of our nature. Even if God did not regard 
with displeasure the waste and the perversion of 
our faculties, it necessarily results from the 
constitution of man, created in the image of 
God, and allied in dignity with angelic spirits, 
that he can not be satisfied with any pleasures, 
but those which are pure and elevated. He must- 
soar on angel wings, and hold intercourse with 
3 



26 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

the Eternal, and become familiar with joys kin- 
dred to those which are found in heaven, be- 
fore this empty void can be filled. To sum up 
all in one comprehensive sentence, he can never 
be satisfied, till he awakes in Christ's likeness. 
When this desire animates him; when he adopts 
the sentiment, 

<*Be Thou my pattern, make me bear 
More of thy gracious image here — " 

then he begins to live worthy of himself. Then 
he has entered the paths of peace into which 
God would guide him. He then begins to find 
the long sought treasure. The turbulence of 
passion is quelled. The "waves of trouble, cease 
to roll, across his peaceful breast." "Yes!" said 
once the dying christian, "I cannot now be dis- 
appointed. What is God's will, is my will, I 
have no will of my own. I am already in 
heaven, its glories and its joys fill my soul." 

When we take the Bible for our guide, and 
the Savior for our pattern, we have entered the 
path which surely leads to certain and unend- 
ing joy. Turn from the lady of fashion and 
pleasure, to the christian female whose days 
are cheered by faith and hope. Her mind 
familiar with eternal things, soars in its native 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 27 

element, and is ready at any time to wing its 
flight to nobler worlds. She awakes in the morn- 
ing, not exhausted with the revelry of a dissipat- 
ed night, but refreshed with quiet sleep, and 
prepared for the faithful discharge of the duties 
of life. Her morning prayer tranquilizes her 
spirit, to meet the trials of the day. At the bed 
of sickness she loves to sit, ready to administer 
support and sympathy. By her cheerfulness 
and affection, and ready discharge of every act 
of kindness, she makes home happy, and draws 
to herself the hearts of all who encircle the 
family fireside. The day is past in usefulness. 
She shrinks not from self denial, that she may 
do the will of her Father. And when the even- 
ing has passed, and her grateful heart offers its 
evening homage of praise, she retires to rest at 
peace with herself and with all the world. How 
sweet are her slumbers! How serene are her 
thoughts! And thus her days glide away. She 
has many sorrows, but every trial brings with it 
a consolation. When old age comes and she 
waits for her departure, eternity is spread before 
her in its most brilliant hues. Her meditations 
are delightful; her anticipations of the future 
most joyful. Her pleasures are immortal pleas- 
ures. They survive the hour of death, and will 
bear transporting beyond the grave. She has 



28 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

given free scope to the nobleness of her nature, 
and here on earth has acquired a relish for 
those joys, which allure her soul in brighter 
worlds. 

Look at two children commencing life togeth- 
er. In the sports of childhood they are united, 
and each advancing year increases their inti- 
macy and strengthens their friendship. At an 
early age one of them becomes pious, and conse- 
crates her heart and her life to the service of 
her Maker. The other continues in light hearted 
indifference to all the realities of a future world, 
and to all the real responsibilities of life. 
Here of course their paths begin to diverge, and, 
though they both make efforts to continue their 
intimacy, and to perpetuate their friendship, 
every day increases the dissimilarity of their 
feelings, and of their enjoyments. They are 
both in circumstances of comparative wealth, 
and the prospects which are opening before 
them in life, are more than ordinarily anima- 
ting. 

The pious girl becomes the wife of a foreign 
missionary. See her standing upon the deck of 
the ship, as they unfurl the sails to the wind. 
Her heart is bleeding as she bids adieu to kin- 
dred and friends. A superficial world regards 
her with pity, but it is because they know not 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 29 

the motives which actuate her, and the conso- 
lations which fill her heart. As the breeze pro- 
pels the ship from the shore, and the bine haze 
of her country fades away in the distance, con- 
solations, of noble nature and of heavenly origin, 
come, as an angel from heaven, and strengthen 
her. And as, in the solitude of the ocean, she 
gazes upon the stars hung out in the midnight 
sky, and thinks with rapture of the mansion 
prepared for her there, oh think you, that she is 
a stranger to enjoyment? Think you she would 
exchange that rich happiness, which melts her 
heart, and causes the tears to gush into her eyes, 
for any enjoyment the fashionable belle has ever 
found, in illumined halls, and pretty ribbons, 
and gaudy dress? Angels gaze with interest 
upon the moral sublimity of the work in which 
she has engaged, and may almost covet the toils 
and sacrifices she is permitted to endure. She 
is engaged in her Father's work, and receives 
those satisfying rewards her Father knows, so 
well, how to confer. 

Look at her again, she has passed weeks and 
months upon the stormy ocean, and is just gaz- 
ing upon the distant outline of the dark 
islands, where she is to pass her life and find her 
grave. Oh who can tell the emotions which 
thrill through her heart, as she leans upon her 
*3 



30 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

husband's arm and gazes upon t he opening won 
ders of her new and final home. As the ship 
nears the shore, the dim mountains rise to view. 
The luxuriant forest waves deep and dark over 
the extended hills and vallies. Wild natives 
shout along the shore, or, with hasty paddle, pro- 
pel the canoe over the waves. As with uncouth 
gesticulation and unintelligible jargon, they 
throng around the ship, and climb its sides, and 
her heart almost faints within her at the sight 
of the degraded creatures with whom she is to 
spend her days, think you that hope — heavenly 
hope — does not animate her, as in the visions of 
the future she sees them elevated, through her 
instrumentality, from sin to holiness, and pre- 
sented, rejoicing in pardon, at the throne of 
heaven? Ask her if she is willing to turn from 
those shores, and again seek her highly favored 
American home. She will tell you no! And 
in her humble dwelling, surrounded by unin- 
structed heathen, she will perhaps experience 
hours of as unalloyed enjoyment, as is to be 
found on earth. She is strengthened by faith, 
and animated by hope. The consciousness that 
she is in the service of God, gives her a degree 
of substantial happiness, such as the votary of 
worldly pleasure never knew. Could you hear 
the silent prayer her heart is offering, you 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 31 

would perceive it to be the prayer of praise. 
She blesses God that she is permitted to enter 
such a field of labor, and to engage in so glori- 
ous an enterprise. 

Look at her again. She is borne down with 
infirmities and cares. A humble hut is her 
home, and disease and hardship have made sad 
ravages upon her feeble frame. Her days of 
toil are nearly numbered, and she expects soon 
to find the repose of the grave. But mark her 
demeanor! How calm and serene and subdued. 
Gaze upon that countenance! It is already 
lighted up as with the purity of heaven. Listen 
to her conversation! It comes from an un- 
troubled and a rejoicing heart. Ask her if she 
is happy? Every feature of her countenance 
will say yes. Ask her if she looks back with 
regret upon the choice she made in early life? 
And in the fulness of overflowing gratitude, 
she will tell you, that she blesses God that she 
was led thus to choose. She has entered the 
ways of pleasantness; she has found the paths 
of peace. And oh how triumphant is the hour 
of her departure from the world. The exulting 
language of the dying Christian is on her lips. 

"Lend, lend your wings, I mount, I fly! 
Oh grave where is thy victor}'? 
Oh death where is thy sting? 



32 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

But trace out the history of her early friend. 
She moves in the gay circles of fashionable life. 
Her mind is enfeebled in its powers by the empti- 
ness of her pursuits. A few short years wear 
out the novelty of all ordinary scenes of pleasure. 
As she has no other resource she is doomed to 
ever increasing satiety. Her hours of depres- 
sion and days of listlessness are uncheered by 
bright prospects in the future. She tries to 
appear happy, and when thoughtless friends are 
around her, she buries deep in her bosom the 
disappointments which are weighing upon her 
spirits. Handsome furniture, and expensive 
dress, and loud laughing companions, cannot 
save from the heart ache. Conscience often 
reproaches her, for her neglect of God and use- 
less life. She resolves and re-resolves, yet lives 
the same. Many, who see her surrounded with 
all earthly comforts, and luxuries, think she 
must be happy. But did they know the truth, 
they would pity her as the victim of disquie- 
tude and almost of remorse. But at last her 
days are also terminated. In a chamber of 
splendor, and on a bed of down, she lies down 
to die. In the solitude of the darkened apart- 
ment, her mind reverts to the past scenes of 
life, and a faithful conscience, deprives her of 
peace. The fever in her heart is more painful 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 33 

than that which is coursing through her veins. 
The anguish of her spirit compels her to forget 
her parched lips and throbbing brow. There is 
no medicine, but the balm in Gilead, which can 
cure one who is sick at heart. Oh go into that 
chamber; sit down by that dying bed; gaze 
upon the anxious countenance of the sufferer 
who is there; listen to her language of self con- 
demnation, as she mourns over her wasted life; 
hear her speak of the insulted Savior, the 
grieved spirit, the neglected Father! The 
glooms of the eternal world are gathering 
around her; and, as she goes down into the dark 
valley, not one ray of joy cheers the fainting 
spirit. Poor lost sinner! angels may weep over 
your ruin! And is this the path into which 
thousands are rushing, vainly thinking it the 
path of peace? What fearful delusion! It is 
the broad road to ruin! The path to woe, 
irremediable and eternal. 

See these two young men, riding out from 
the city in the morning of this lovely sabbath. 
Each has a cigar in his mouth, and with the 
top of the chaise thrown back, they are urging 
the horse to the extent of his speed. Their 
loud voices and boisterous laugh, fall painfully 
upon the ears of the serious people, who are on 
their way to church. They rein up the horse 



34 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

at some dissipated and fashionable place of re- 
sort, and are soon seated in a little back parlor, 
which has witnessed many a scene of riot and 
of ruin. Two other congenial companions join 
them. The table is spread. The cards are 
produced. Wine and glasses are upon the 
table, and upon the mantle-shelf a lighted candle 
and cigars. Bottle after bottle is called for, as 
they drink deep and play long. Louder and 
louder their voices rise, as the tide of excitement 
swells, and late in the evening, the rattle of their 
wheels is heard, and their inebriating song, swells 
upon the night air, as they return to the city. 

Who is that young man with flushed cheek 
and tottering limbs and aching head, so late in 
the morning opening the store? It is one of 
those tavern rioters. His fevered brain is not 
yet cooled. His trembling nerves have not yet 
recovered from the sabbath day's debauch. The 
excitement of his spirit yesterday has caused a 
corresponding depression to day. He is so 
gloomy and so miserable that life itself is almost 
a burden. The duties of the day are intolerably 
toilsome, as he draws through them oppressed by 
the double weight of an enfeebled body, and a 
remorseful spirit. He cannot shut out from his 
thoughts a widowed mother, who is looking to 
him for her heart's comfort and her support. He 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 35 

cannot banish from his mind the knowledge, 
that during the hours of the sabbath, when he 
was bidding defiance to the authority of God, a 
pious mother's prayers were ascending to heaven 
in his behalf. Yes, this dissolute young man, 
yesterday so boisterous in his mirth, and so dar- 
ing in his sins, is to day a poor, pitiable, wretched 
victim of remorse and shame. When he goes 
alone to his chamber Monday night, as thoughts 
of home crowd upon his mind, and the remem- 
brance of his sins oppresses his conscience, he 
almost curses the day of his birth. This is the 
young man who, in the excitement of his revel- 
lings, shouts, 

"A short life and a merry one." 

And even when he says it, he knows, that but 
few more miserable creatures are to be found, 
than he. Our cities are filled, literally filled, 
with these victims of delusion. They are blight- 
ing every prospect of earthly happiness — impair- 
ing their health, and hurrying themselves to a 
premature grave. Miserably they live, and in- 
finitely more miserably they die. These are the 
young men who in such throngs become bank- 
rupt in fortune and in character, and who then, 
in the desperate endeavor to repair their ruined 
prospects, crowd to the south and the west, and, 
by thousands, find a grave upon the banks of the 



36 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

Mississippi. Such is the path into which they 
madly rush in the pursuit of happiness. How 
melancholy in its progress. How awful in its 
termination. 

Compare with this the history of the sedate 
young man who reveres his Bible, and adores 
his God. You will see him sabbath morning 
going with peaceful countenance and tranquil 
heart, to meet his cla,ss in the sabbath school. 
The sabbath is to him a day of rest from worldly 
care and toil, and by its sacred influence his 
mind is enlarged, and his spirit refreshed to en- 
gage with new vigor in the duties of life. The 
instructions of the pulpit enlighten his under- 
standing, and purify his heart. He becomes ac- 
quainted with the wants of the world, with his 
own character and duty and destiny. Every 
week he is rising in the scale of being, and 
gathering around his character the respect and 
confidence of all who know him. His un- 
troubled countenance shews that there is peace 
within. 

Soon we see him with his wife and children 
seated at his own fireside. There are joys enough 
there to chain him to his home. Look in upon 
that peaceful scene. His children, with picture- 
books or pencils and paper, are silently amusing 
themselves at the table. His happy wife, with 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 37 

needle and thread, is employed in her appropriate 
duties, and her confiding heart is a stranger to 
neglect or anxiety. As she plies the needle, he, 
for their mutual improvement, reads some inter- 
esting book, which makes the hours of the even- 
ing glide along upon their swiftest wings. The 
hour for rest at length arrives. The family bi- 
ble is opened. He reads. 

"Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor 
that which is evil; cleave to that which is good. 
Be kindly affectioned one to another with broth- 
erly love, in honor preferring one another. Not 
slothful in business; fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord: rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; 
continuing instant in prayer; distributing to the 
necessity of saints; given to hospitality. Bless 
them which persecute you, bless and curse not. 
Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with 
them that weep." 

He receives these instructions as the teach- 
ings of the Lord. They influence his mind and 
control his conduct. He needs no labored proof, 
to satisfy him of the divine origin of the Bible. 
Such sentiments as these, he feels assured, could 
never come from the hearts of impostors. His 
faith is firm and untroubled. And oh who does 
not covet the peace of his mind, as he bows at 
the family altar to offer his evening prayer. 
4 



38 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

"Heavenly Father/' he says, "we thank thee 
for the rich mercies and unnumbered enjoyments 
of this day. Thou hast indeed been our Father 
and our friend. Thou hast supplied all our 
wants, protected us from sorrow, and conferred 
upon us a tranquillity of mind, which the world 
cannot give and cannot take away. Oh wilt 
thou be pleased, for Jesus Christ's sake, to accept 
this evening our offering of gratitude and praise. 

"It is in the name of our adorable Redeemer, 
that we look to Thee for forgiveness of our sins. 
Many are the years we have passed in forgetful- 
ness of all thy goodness, and even now, every day 
and every hour, we have occasion to mourn over 
the ingratitude and the corruption of our hearts. 
But we bless Thee for the gift of thy dear Son, 
that though sinners we may rejoice in the assured 
hope of pardon. 

"Bless our beloved children. Oh preserve them 
from sin and death. Send thy spirit, oh Lord, to 
sanctify their hearts, and enable us, by our in- 
structions and our example, to lead them to see 
and to feel the beauty of holiness. Wilt thou 
aid us, so to watch over our thoughts and words 
and actions, that we may never bring a stain 
upon that cause we profess to love. 

"And now, heavenly Father, be this night our 
Father and our friend. Shield our household 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 39 

from every calamity. May we sleep in peace 
and awake in safety. And when we have done 
with earth, oh grant that we, and all dear to us, 
may be forever united in thy kingdom, and the 
praise shall be thine forever, Father, Son and 
Holy Spirit. Amen." 

This young man has found the paths of peace. 
When sorrow comes, he has a rich and unfailing 
support. When a dying hour comes, he sweetly 
falls asleep in Jesus, like a confiding babe in its 
mother's arms. Oh happy, happy young man. 
You are soon to be an angel, elevated in dignity, 
abounding in bliss, and soaring amid the glories 
of your eternal home. 

When the mind turns from such scenes as 
these, to boisterous haunts of dissipated pleasure, 
how pitiable in the comparison appears the mirth 
of these votaries of sin. And how emphatic is 
the decision of the judgment, that the true path 
to happiness, is the one which the Bible points 
out. The farther we stray from these paths, the 
more surely do we plunge ourselves into sorrow. 

In the continuation of this little volume, I shall 
endeavor to guide my readers more particularly, 
to the. feelings they must cherish and the habits 
they must cultivate, to fill the heart's empty void, 
and to ensure mental peace. I have no new the- 
ory to suggest; no novel plan to propose. I shall 



40 MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 

merely take the Bible as my guide, and endeavor 
to unfold its principles and illustrate its truths. 
I write not for technical theologians, but for the 
great multitude of sincere hearted, honest in- 
quirers for life and peace. 

I would see the young man fortified by chris- 
tian principles, to meet the great duties of life. 
And here I hope he will find a friendly guide to 
point out to him the dangers which beset his 
path. Tens of thousands rush to early ruin for 
the want of friendly counsel. Step by step they 
proceed in the career of folly, till they enter 
the regions of crime, and as they fall into a dis- 
honored grave, they leave to parents and sisters 
the awful legacy of blighted hearts and shame. 

I would lead the young woman, in whatever 
rank in life she may be found, to divest life of 
the false hues, which romance too often throws 
around it. I would teach her, that her own 
heart must be the centre of her happiness, and 
that it should be the fountain to cheer and glad- 
den others. How many, in the frivolities of their 
early years, become totally incapacitated for 
domestic joy. And when they assume the name 
of wife and mother, it is but to lose a husband's 
respect, and to be the mother of an ungoverned 
and ungrateful offspring. Her destitution of 
right feelings, and neglect of right practices 



MERRIMENT IS NOT HAPPINESS. 41 

drives her husband to seek enjoyments away 
from home, and she soon in poverty and disgrace, 
weeps over the irremediable ruin, she has brought 
upon her family and herself. We would if pos- 
sible avert such ruin. 

In how many families, surrounded with every 
earthly blessing, are daily witnessed scenes of 
contention which embitter every enjoyment. A 
fretful wife or an irritable husband, keeps the 
family in a continual babel of discord. It is 
with difficulty that a stranger smile, can be kept 
upon the cheek, even during the brief call of a 
friend. That home, where almost heavenly joy 
might reign, is the abode of jealousy and peev- 
ishness and discontent. These "fury passions 
of the mind," have almost unlimited sway, and 
here youthful immortals are trained up in an at- 
mosphere which must wilt all the nobler feelings 
of the soul, and which is preparing them to live, 
as their parents live, the victims, and the pro- 
moters, of sorrow. We would if possible dimin- 
ish the number of such families. 

To accomplish this object we present the Gos- 
pel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, drawn 
out in all its practical influences upon the heart 
and the life. It is a guide to duty and to happi- 
ness, and he who follows its directions will be 
led through paths of peace. 
*4 



42 MORAL CULTURE. 



CHAPTER II. 



MORAL CULTURE, 



Improvement of personal character is always 
our first duty. Our usefulness and our happi- 
ness depends almost entirely upon our moral and 
intellectual condition. A man of vulgar mind 
and ungoverned passions, can hardly be in a 
situation in which he will be happy; let him 
inherit all the wealth, and honors of one of Eng- 
land's proudest nobles; lead him through the 
halls of his princely dwelling, and surround 
him with obsequious servants, bowing to his 
will; let him pass, in charioted splendor, over 
his extended parks and magnificent pleasure 
grounds; — through all the beauties which wealth, 
has been for centuries adding to nature's loveli- 
ness; — give him all the luxuries which opulence 
can confer and all the respect which the most 
honorable station can elicit, and his own irrita- 
ble spirit will poison all. In the midst of every 
thing which earth can afford, to make him happy, 
he will be a wretch. His morning drives, will 



MORAL CULTURE. 43 

confer no pleasure. His palace, will be tapes- 
tried with gloom. The very luxuries around 
him, will pall his appetite to satiety and dis- 
gust. 

Take another man of well disciplined mind 
and highly cultivated moral feelings, and you 
can hardly place him in a situation where he 
will not find contentment. Like the bee, he will 
extract honey even from the poisoned flower. 
Let sickness come, and his cheerful spirit, will 
divest the chamber of sickness, of its gloom. 
Deprive him of his property, and he will with a 
smile take the carpet from his floor, and the sofa 
from his fireside. He will enter a more humble 
dwelling, and spread his table with more frugal 
fare, and clothe himself and family in plainer 
garb, not only without a murmur, but with a 
cheerfulness which will revive the desponding 
spirit of his dependant family. These little trials 
can not agitate the still waters of his heart. He 
has within him fountains of enjoyment. Such a 
man is placed above the storms of life. They 
may howl around his dwelling, but they can not 
destroy his peace. 

1. To attain this self control, the first essen- 
tial is to live in habitual communion with God. 
The mind thus becomes accustomed to look upon 
life, as a state of pilgrimage, and earthly sorrows 



44 MORAL CULTURE. 

dwindle away, into the petty inconveniences of 
the journey. The man whose eye is fixed upon 
the bright things which faith reveals, meets these 
trials, as the good humored traveller, encounters 
rough roads, or a rainy day, or an uncomfortable 
tavern. He feels that they are but transient in- 
conveniences which will soon be forgotten. The 
mind which is familiar with the contemplation 
of God, and eternity, lives like the sun in the 
clear heavens, far away from vapors, and clouds, 
and storms. This is the case to so eminent a 
degree, that many a christian becomes almost 
entirely regardless of the wealth and the honor 
of the world. With alacrity he enters into the 
service of God, under circumstances in which 
he knows he is to meet with but poverty, and 
reproach. Voluntarily he turns away from the 
inviting paths of affluence and renown, and en- 
gages in the great work of life, as though it were 
but the toil of a summer's day. As an instance, 
witness Brainerd, leaving behind him home, and 
friends, and all earthly comforts, — penetrating 
the wilds, which spread their glooms around the 
Susquehannah, and taking up his abode for life 
in the wigwam of the Indian. Witness Henry 
Martyn, a voluntary exile from all that England 
can afford, to cheer the eye and delight the mind 
and warm the heart. He spends his nights in 



MORAL CULTURE. 45 

study, and his days in toil, to benefit the vicious, 
and ungrateful. He is apparently, as regardless 
of wealth and fame, as if he were an angel from 
heaven, just touching, for a moment, upon this 
our planet, to return again to the bosom of his 
God. Such men, animated by faith, and strength- 
ened by prayer, have a prospect before their 
eyes so brilliant, that it dims the lustre of every 
earthly allurement. The eye rejoices in the 
vision of the bright scenes of heaven. The ear 
is regaled with the melody of its rapturous songs. 
Before these vivid joys, which faith reveals, 
earth's sorrows and changes fade away. 

Reader, if you would triumph over the ills of 
life, you must enter into a holy alliance with 
christian faith. If you would enjoy a calm and 
heavenly frame, you must acquire it by walking 
closely with God. If you would disarm afflic- 
tion, and be the victor of death, you must ob- 
tain aid of God, which giveth us the victory, 
through our Lord Jesus Christ. You must go 
often to the retirement of your closet. By free 
and full confession of sin, you must humble your 
own spirit, and deeply imbibe the consciousness 
of your own weakness, that you may be made 
strong through Christ. By the fervor of secret 
devotion you must keep the flame of love burn- 
ing warm in your heart. No real advancement 



46 MORAL CULTURE. 

in moral culture can be made, without frequently 
unbosoming yourself to God in secret prayer. 
And if you are in the habit of going confidingly 
to God, in all your joys and sorrows, — of enu- 
merating before him your individual sins and 
frailties, and expressing gratitude for the par- 
ticular mercies of each day, you will most as- 
suredly grow in grace; you will be aided, by the 
Holy Spirit, to triumph over passion and sin; 
your path will be as the ascending sun, shining 
brighter and brighter to the perfect day. 

In secret prayer the confession of sin should 
be definite and minute. Have you at any time 
during the day indulged in an irritable spirit? 
Have you spoken hastily, or unkindly to those 
about you? Has, vanity, that almost universal 
sin, at any time triumphed? Have you thought, 
or said, or done any thing which you would be 
unwilling that God had seen and heard? Men- 
tion the specific case. Enumerate the partic- 
ulars. Spread it all out in full and hearty con- 
fession before God and implore his forgiveness. 

Here is a christian lady entering her parlor 
in the morning. She finds that the servant has 
^nade some gross blunder in her morning duties. 
The breakfast table is not properly arranged; 
the toast, perhaps, is burnt, or tea has been 
provided instead of coffee. At once she is 



MORAL CULTURE. 47 

thrown off her guard. Her peace of mind is all 
gone. Vexed and irritated, she loads the care- 
less servant, with all that lady-like abuse, with 
which not a few parlors . re familiar. When 
the husband enters, he finds his wife with flushed 
cheek, and clouded brow, and all the enjoyment 
of the morning meal is gone. Yes! the happi- 
ness of that whole family, is in the keeping of 
that careless servant. Had this lady lost her 
husband, or her child by death, she would have 
found support under the calamity, from the con- 
solations which religion affords. But she allows 
her mind to be in perpetual vexation from these 
trifles of life. Her spirit is every day irritated, 
her disposition soured, and her heart hardened, 
simply because an ignorant domestic is unfaith- 
ful. She hardly strives to avoid the petulance 
which this thorn in the flesh excites, and con- 
sequently her own happiness, and that of her 
family are continually embittered by this want 
of self control. She apparently is not aware 
that these petty trials are ordered, by a wise 
God, that we may be disciplined in the virtues 
of patience and resignation. When one has 
thus yielded to sin, she ought at once to enter 
her closet and not leave it till she obtains for- 
giveness. 



4» MORAL CULTURE. 

"Oh God!" she should say, "I have greatly 
sinned. I have dishonored religion in the eyes 
of my servant, and in the eyes of my family. I 
have allowed the most trivial annoyance, to fill 
my heart with irritation and anger; have in- 
dulged in passions, which have disturbed the 
happiness of the family. Oh God forgive me. 
Thou art continually witnessing my neglect of 
duty, and my violation of thy commands; yet I 
am as ready to censure and find fault, as though 
I never did wrong myself. Oh heavenly Father, 
for the sake of thy dear Son, have mercy upon 
me. I have occasion to weep and be ashamed, 
that my passions are under such feeble restraint. 
I know, that, by thus giving loose to my pas- 
sions, I bring a stain upon the cause of Christ, 
and repel others from the religion I profess. I 
am indeed a poor sinful creature thus to yield to 
such trifling temptations. Wilt thou aid me, by 
thy Spirit, for the remainder of this day, in some 
degree to repair the injury, I have done. May 
I by cheerfulness, restore enjoyment to my fam- 
ily, and by self-control, guard against yielding 
to such wicked passions. Thy Son, oh God! 
has died for my sins. It is in his name, and for 
his sake, I ask for pardon, and forever I will 
praise Thee, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 
Amen." 



MORAL CULTURE. 49 

This is the way, and the only way that sin 
can be banished from the heart. As long as 
sin reigns within, you must be the victim of 
passion and sorrow. And you should be every 
hour of the day, watching your thoughts and 
words and actions, that you may detect sin, and 
confess it, and obtain God's aid, to banish it 
from your heart. Want of submission to the 
will of God in those perpetually recurring annoy- 
ances, to which He has permitted us to be ex- 
posed, that our faith, and patience, may be ex- 
ercised, constitute, probably, by far the greatest 
amount of the sins of christians. And there is 
many a christian who seems to think that oc- 
casional peevishness, is not inconsistent with a 
subdued and devotional mind. Think not that 
this subject is one of little importance. More 
happiness is destroyed by this one cause, than 
by almost any other which can be enumerated. 
It brings more care-worn wrinkles upon the 
brow, and instils more restlessness to the heart, 
than poverty, or pain. Determine then, through 
the grace of God, to triumph, decisively to tri- 
umph, over this sin. Go to your closet, and 
there minutely relate to God, your temptations, 
and your weakness. You will find that His 
strength, will aid your weakness, and that His 
grace, will be sufficient for you. 



50 MORAL CULTURE. 

It is important that you should have stated 
seasons for secret prayer. Without this, it will 
be exceedingly difficult, if not impossible, to be 
faithful in the discharge of the duty. In every 
pursuit of life, system is all important, to ensure 
success. Prayer must be a part of our business. 
Communion with God, must be the essential duty 
of every day. 

Set apart some portion of the day when you 
can withdraw for a few moments, with the least 
difficulty, and perseveringly adhere to your 
resolution. This is a point which requires more 
decision, than is generally supposed. But be 
decided. Determine that you will serve God, 
whatever else you must neglect. 

The cultivation of this devotional spirit, is 
the first great duty of life. Here must be laid the 
foundation of your christian character. Here 
must be found the source of all your efforts to do 
good, and to get good. In the silence of the 
closet, as your* soul communes with God, you 
will obtain almost supernatural strength to tri- 
umph over temptation and to go on your Chris- 
tian way rejoicing. Do you need argument, to 
satisfy you of the truth of these sentiments? 
Need I point your attention, to the injunctions 
of the Bible; to the example of the Savior; to 
the habits of the early christians, and to the tes- 



MORAL CULTURE. 51 

timony of the eminently good of every age? This 
argument direct and simple and conclusive as it 
is, is still unnecessary. The mind that sees not 
the propriety of secret prayer; that feels not the 
necessity of this confiding intercourse with its 
Maker, is beyond the influence of argument. 
There are some truths so palpable, that they 
need only be stated that they may be felt. 

Are you anxious for the salvation of your soul, 
seeking peace, yet finding none? Frequent your 
closet. Jn secret prayer lay before God all your 
sorrows and all your desires. There surrender 
your heart to God, trusting in the atoning sacri- 
fice of his Son, for the pardon of your sins, and 
you will assuredly find peace. He who has said 
ask and ye shall receive, will lend an attentive 
ear to your prayer, and will accept the offering 
of a penitent heart. It is in the closet that you 
must commence your journey towards heaven; 
and it is in the closet, that you must daily ob- 
tain strength, to encounter the* trials and the 
temptations of the way. 

2. Cultivate a grateful spirit. There is 
hardly any form which sin assumes, more incon- 
sistent with christian character, than a habitual 
state of discontent. The heart, long practised 
in arts of self deception, often mistakes ungrate- 
ful murmurs, for penitence, and repinings at 



52 



MORAL CULTURE. 



the allotments of God, for weanedness from 
the world. But does an earthly parent love to 
see his children continually complaining. Does 
he love to see his sons and daughters murmur- 
ing because others have privileges which they 
can not enjoy? And can God be better pleased 
when he sees one of his children forgetting 
gratitude, and manifesting a spirit of disquietude. 
Your husband is perhaps not a christian. And 
is that a reason why you should, day after day, 
move about the house with a disfigured counte- 
nance, ungrateful for the ten thousand other 
blessings, which God is lavishing upon you? 
And think you that God will be induced by your 
ingratitude for the blessings you already enjoy, 
to add still more to their number? And do you 
think that your husband, will be allured to the 
Savior, when he sees you every day, and every 
hour indulging in feelings, which embitter every 
earthly enjoyment, and which he knows that 
God must regard as sin! Many an unconverted 
husband has been effectually repelled from re- 
ligion, by the gloom which has overcast the 
countenance and the heart of his wife. Many a 
child has been confirmed in sin by the mourn- 
ful austerity of pious parents. The gloom which 
sits upon the countenance, the child thinks is 
the external manifestation of piety, and he shrinks 



MORAL CULTURE. 5o 

from an influence so saddening. We should feel 
that every blessing we receive is undeserved, and 
let thankfulness be the tribute for the past, and 
hope cheer the future. Ingratitude is one of the 
greatest and most universal of sins. And against 
this sin, the christian should strive with a per- 
severance, that never shall be overcome. The 
pious wife, should indeed feel deeply, and pray 
earnestly, for her unconverted husband. Her 
closet should bear witness, to the fervor of her 
daily intercessions in his behalf. She may there 
give vent to her feelings, in tears of solicitude, 
and plead in the fervency of the most intense 
emotion, that her husband may be saved. li she 
does not feel deeply, and pray earnestly, she can 
not expect a blessing. But she should also show 
God that she feels grateful for past favors, and 
she should manifest by her cheerfulness, her 
submission to His will or she can not expect 
that additional blessings will be conferred. 

Gratitude is a virtue to be acquired. You 
must make constant efforts, to accustom your 
heart, to grateful emotions. It is as necessary 
that the christian should make efforts to acquire 
those moral feelings which are pleasing to God, 
as it is that the student should toil early and late, 
in the acquisition of knowledge. Cherish then 
the habit of looking at the blessings, with which 



54 MORAL CULTURE. 

you are surrounded. You retire to rest at night, 
oppressed, perhaps, with that mysterious dejection 
of spirits, which occasionally comes over us, we 
hardly know why. But do not fall asleep in 
that frame of mind. In meditation, gather around 
you your blessings. Think how abundantly 
during the day, all your temporal wants have 
been supplied. You have been preserved from 
bodily pain, from remorse. You have not been 
abandoned by God to plunge into gross sin, and 
your soul is cheered with hopes of heaven. You 
cannot reflect upon the blessings with which you 
are surrounded without finding them more than 
can be numbered. You cannot reflect upon 
these favors many moments, without giving 
utterance to your grateful emotions in exclaim- 
ing "bless the Lord oh my soul, and let all that 
is within me bless and praise His holy name." 
Before such reflections the murkey vapors of 
unthankfulness will vanish, like fog before the 
western breeze, and the rising sun. 

3. Cultivate a cheerful spirit. Cheerfulness 
is the twin sister of gratitude. They are born 
together. They walk hand in hand through 
life, and the death of the one breaks the heart 
of the other. Gratitude is the homage which 
the heart gives to God for his goodness. Cheer- 
fulness is the external manifestation of this 



MORAL CULTURE. 55 

praise. And yet what a world is this, of down- 
cast looks, and dejected hearts. Said a young 
man, as he witnessed the incessant murmurings, 
and fault finding of a pious mother, cc if this is 
religion, the less I have of it the better." Prob- 
ably thousands of mothers, have passed years of 
anxious prayer for the conversion of their chil- 
dren, and yet have been effectually preventing 
their conversion by the practical exhibition of 
an unamiable or melancholy spirit. The moth- 
er will, perhaps, force a stranger smile upon her 
cheek to greet a visitor in the parlor, but the 
smile is as transient as the visit, and her face is 
soon again shrouded in its accustomed gloom. 
The husband, comes home from his office or his 
store, perplexed with care, and almost the first 
sounds which greet his ears, are the words of 
complaint. Disgusted with the sound, he is al- 
most tempted to shut the door, and go back 
again to his business. He however takes his 
seat and waits for tea, with feelings in that irri- 
table state which the least vexation will inflame. 
Soon his wife comes in, from the scene of her 
petulance, harassed with domestic vexations. 
Now here is the gunpowder, and the spark 
brought near together, and in alL probability 
before the supper hour has passed away, there 
is an explosion. Painful as it is to describe 



56 MORAL CULTURE. 

such scenes, who does not know that they are 
of frequent occurrence. After tea, the husband, 
disappointed in finding happiness at home, sal- 
lies out in pursuit of enjoyment, to the music 
club, or the caucus, or the card table. He rap- 
idly forms associates, and acquires a relish for 
dissipated pleasures, and in a few years, fails in 
business, and totters along the drunkard's path 
to ruin. Now it is this petulant and yet possi- 
bly pious wife, who is the cause of the family 
ruin. And in the Providence of God, most aw- 
fully does she suffer for her sin. Such cases, 
are too numerous to be numbered. Every indi- 
vidual who has watched the progress of human 
woe, with an observant eye, can point you to 
many such wrecks. The world is full of them. 
Perhaps the husband has too much self control, 
to surrender himself up to the drunkard's doom, 
and merely leaves his wife in solitude, at home, 
while he goes elsewhere to find his joys. She 
feels all the pangs of a broken heart, in perceiv- 
ing that she has lost her husband's affections. 
She knows that he once loved her; and she 
weeps most bitterly as she feels assured that 
he loves her no more. Perhaps she does not 
even imagine the reason why. Unhappy wife! 
the fault is your own. When wearied and ex- 
cited by the harassments of the day, your hus- 



MORAL CULTURE. O/ 

band has returned to his home, he has not been 
met with a smile of welcome, and a placid 
heart. The parlor is in a clutter, the children 
are neglected, his wife is fretful. Love, even 
the most pure, and the most fervent, can not 
long survive such encounters. The tavern 
keeper will bid him welcome. He will have 
thelittle snug parlor, for the whist party, neat 
and in order, and his associates will be careful 
to avoid offence. They will greet him with the 
open hand, and the smiling brow. Is it strange, 
that a man, who is not governed by Christian 
principle, should under such circumstances, 
forget his wife and forsake his home? Is it 
strange, that he should love those who are care- 
ful to minister to his pleasures? And can it be 
supposed that the prayers of such a wife, for the 
conversion of her husband, will be answered, 
when the influence of her cherished feelings, is 
to repel him from her presence and drive him 
from his home. It is sad to think how many 
pious wives, have thus been the most formida- 
ble obstacle in the way of their husband's con- 
version. The practical exemplification of re- 
ligion, which the husband continually witnesses 
at home, has disarmed his conscience of its 
power, and paralyzed all other good influences. 
It has even excited his disgust to the religion 



58 MORAL CULTURE. 

she professes, shielded him against the appeals 
of the pulpit, and destroyed the influence which 
the example of irreproachable christians would 
otherwise have exerted upon his heart. 

But look at the moral power of a cheerful 
and contented mind. The husband, sees his 
wife moving about the house, serene and happy. 
She is faithful in the discharge of all her duties, 
she will not allow her feelings to be irritated, 
by the annoyances of unfaithful domestics. He 
passes through the kitchen, and finds that the 
same religion, which makes her cheerful in the 
parlor, controls her feelings there. The smile 
is there upon her countenance, and good nature 
animates her heart. My dear wife, he says, is 
almost an angel. Oh that I had such control 
over my feelings, as she has over hers. Molest- 
ed as she is, altogether beyond my power of en- 
durance, by the carelessness and unfaithfulness 
of those she employs, she is still always calm 
and mild and happy. There must indeed be a 
reality in that religion, which makes her so per- 
fect. He comes home at night, worn down 
with the toil of the day, and a cheerful room, 
and a cheerful heart, embrace him. His trou- 
bled spirit is soothed by the quiet influences 
which she throws around him. Perhaps he is 
naturally a passionate man, and comes home 



MORAL CULTURE. 59 

vexed, and petulant. But the neat fire side, the 
pleasant table, the peaceful home, the soothing 
tones of his wife's voice, calm his perturbed 
spirit. He feels that home is indeed a blessed 
retreat from the turmoil of business, and he will 
not leave it, till duty compels him forth. Occa- 
sionally his wife improves a favorable moment 
kindly to urge the duties of religion. He feels 
the power of her persuasion, for her whole life 
is a most convincing comment upon the truth, 
and the value of her principles. He goes to 
church, and hears the minister preach upon the 
loveliness of piety. Ah! he says, I have a still 
more eloquent, and convincing sermon, preach- 
ed to me every day, and every hour, at home, by 
the example of my beloved wife. Yes! if any one 
is inexcusable in not being a christian, it is 
surely I. God has sent to me, the combined 
influence of precept, and example. 

Christian wife! this is the way to adorn the 
Gospel of your God and Savior. In any other 
way, you are dishonoring religion, and driving 
your husband and your children far from God. 
Say not that human nature can not bear the vexa- 
tions which you at times are compelled to encoun- 
ter. Regenerated human nature must patiently 
and cheerfully bear any burden, God is pleased to 
lay upon it. She who wears a clouded brow, 



GO 



MORAL CULTURE. 



and indulges despondency in her heart, is dis- 
honoring religion, is degrading and souring her 
own feelings; she is embittering the joys of 
home, and preparing sorrow for herself, and 
ruin for her family. These are woes which are 
real. They will be found far less endurable, 
than the ordinary vexations of domestic life. 
God sends the petty trials of life, for wise pur- 
poses. The heart needs such discipline. Does 
God ask you to be submissive, when your child 
is struggling in the arms of death, — when all 
your husband's earthly possession have taken to 
themselves wings, and flown away, — when you 
are prostrated upon a bed of weakness and pain, 
or are going down to the grave, with a discon- 
solate husband and weeping children to mourn 
your loss? Does he under these circumstances 
call for the exercise of a pious and submissive 
heart, and yet not require of you to manifest 
resignation, under smaller troubles — to recog- 
nize His providence in each minute event of 
life? 

Again we say, think not that this subject is un- 
dignified, too trivial for attention. It takes 
hold upon your spiritual welfare; it embraces 
the eternal interests of your family; it reaches 
forward in its influence through all coming 
time, and even during eternity. Cultivate a 



MORAL CULTURE. 61 

cheerful heart; at all times contented and 
cheerful. Guard against a fretful word, as you 
would guard against infection. 

It was once said of a gentleman, who had 
rode over the seas of a stormy life, with a mind 
ever tranquil, and cheerful, "he has a decided 
talent at being happy." This undisturbed 
cheerfulness is indeed a talent, but it is in a 
great degree, an acquired talent. After mak- 
ing any allowance we please, for difference of 
natural disposition, it is an incontestible fact 
that the most good humored man, may by in- 
dulging in passionate propensities become pee- 
vish and morose. And he whose natural tem- 
perament, is at the farthest remove from amia- 
bility, may by continued efforts in restraining 
petulance and cultivating tranquillity become a 
pattern of moral loveliness. 

He, who has acquired this mastery over his 
own spirit, possesses that which is of more value 
than houses, or lands. He has a treasure ines- 
timably precious, locked up in the strong holds 
of his own heart, secure from moth and thief, 
and rust; a treasure which enriches poverty, 
invigorates weakness, and disarms affliction and 
pain; a treasure which is valuable in death, and 
which one can carry with him, to be his com- 
panion, and friend, through eternity. Who will 
6 



62 



MORAL CULTURE. 



not strive for the acquisition of this treasure. It 
is indeed a pearl of great price. And who is 
willing that the evil spirit of moroseness, and 
petulance should rule in his heart, and scourge 
him unceasingly with its scorpion lash? Go 
then to God, and present to Him a penitent, 
reconciled, submissive spirit. Attaining the 
consciousness that you are at peace with Him, 
through Jesus Christ, 

Let not a wave of trouble roll 
Across your peaceful breast. 

4. Cultivate an affectionate spirit. We 
sometimes meet with men, who seem to think 
that any indulgence in affectionate feelings is a 
weakness. They will return from a journey, 
and greet their families with distant dignity, 
and move among their children, with the cold 
and lofty splendor of an iceberg, surrounded 
with its broken fragments. There is hardly a 
more unnatural sight on earth, than one of 
these families without hearts. The children, 
who are reared in such families, are usually 
moral deformities. They are but half human. 
They have understanding without affections. 
And when they leave home, if a place without 
a heart, may be called by this sacred name, 



MORAL CULTURE. G3 

they enter upon life, exposed to all its dangers, 
and deprived of one of the most effectual shields 
to temptation, and guides to virtue. 

A Father had better extinguish his boy's eyes, 
than take away his heart. Who that has expe- 
rienced the joys of friendship, and knows the 
worth of sympathy, and affection, would not 
rather lose all that is beautiful in nature's 
scenery, than be robbed of the hidden treasures 
of his heart? Who would not rather bury his 
wife, than bury his love for her? Who would 
not rather follow his child to the grave, than 
entomb his parental affection? Yes! God has 
a heart; and He loves, tenderly loves His chil- 
dren. Jesus Christ has a heart, so warm and 
fervent, that he could die upon the cross, to 
save the unworthy, whom He loved. Love is 
Heaven's element, and the joys of affection — of 
congenial spirits, are the joys which' animate 
the songs and inspire the harps of that blest 
world. Whatever else man may be robbed of, 
oh leave him his heart. Without this, he is a 
human hyena, unfit for earth or Heaven. 

Cherish then your heart's best affections. In- 
dulge in the warm and gushing emotions of filial, 
parental, fraternal love. Think it not a weak- 
ness. God has the largest, and the warmest 
heart in the Universe. He is all heart. God 



64 MORAL CULTURE. 

is love. Fear not then to enlarge your heart's 
capacities, to give vigor to its exercises. Love- 
as extensively, and as intensely as you can. 
Love God. Love every body, and every thing,, 
that is lovely. Teach your children to love; to 
love the rose, to love the robin, to love their 
parents, to love their God. Let it be the studied 
object of your domestic culture, to give them 
warm hearts, ardent affections. Bind your whole 
family together, by these strong cords. You 
cannot make them too numerous. You cannot 
make them too strong. Religion is love; — love 
to God — love to man. And he who has no heart 
can no more be a christian; can no more be ad- 
mitted to heaven, than a Bengal Tiger. 

You can train up your family to be affec- 
tionate, or heartless. You can cultivate in your 
own bosom, general feelings of indifference, or 
sympathy and kindness. You see a child crying 
in the street. It has encountered some childish 
wo, which is, at the moment, crushing its little 
heart. Go to the sobbing sufferer, place your 
hand upon his head, and speak to him in kind- • 
ness, and you will soothe his sorrows, and warm 
your own heart. Accustom yourself, to sympa- 
thise with sorrow, and suffering wherever they 
are seen, in man or brute. Disdain not to give 
a moment's care, to the wounded bird, that flut- 



MORAL CULTURE. 65 

ters across your path. Cherish such feelings 
towards all God's creation, that if the birds could 
speak, every songster of the forest, would regale 
you with notes of love, and welcome; that every 
insect would give its joyful chirp, and every 
beast of the field, would gambol w T ith pleasure 
at your presence. Never forget that you have a 
heart to be cultivated; that its affections must 
be called into exercise, by all those appropriate 
stimulants, with which God has surrounded it. 
Thus you will advance in the scale of moral 
excellence, and by so doing will not only accu- 
mulate treasures of happiness, but increase your 
capabilities for future acquisitions. In your own 
heart, you will then have a portion of the spirit 
of heaven. In your own affectionate family, 
where heart is bound to heart by the tenderest 
ties, you will have a foretaste, of the unceasing 
bliss of the celestial home. 

Thus will you adorn the gospel of Christ, and 
exhibit it to man in its heaven-born loveliness. 
Thus will you disarm the sinner of prejudice, 
and allure him to the joys of piety. A young 
lady, who had long resisted all the warnings of 
the bible, and compunctions of conscience, and 
appeals of the pulpit, went to pass a few days in 
a family over which religion had shed its hal- 
lowed influence of cheerfulness and affection. 
*6 



66 MORAL CULTURE. 

And as she witnessed the calm joy, which 
beamed upon their mornings, and gilded the 
gliding hours of the evening, as she witnessed 
the mutual attachment, strengthened by un- 
numbered acts of kindness, and enlivened by 
the anticipation of a better home on high; her 
heart was touched with the consciousness, of the 
utter emptiness, and heartlessness of her own 
joys. She was thus led to reflect, till convinced 
of sin, she was guided to the Savior, and 
found that wisdom's ways are indeed ways of 
pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. There 
was a silent influence in the happy piety of 
this family, which was irresistible, and which 
brought her in submission to the feet of Jesus. 
So shall we ever find it. There is no appeal to 
the heart, so persuasive, as a practical exhibi- 
tion of the loveliness of piety. In comparison 
with such an appeal, every other sinks into* 
almost total impotency. Indeed all other motives 
combined, hardly possess a power so efficacious. 
He who in his life exhibits the principles of the 
gospel, who shows by his daily conduct, the* 
character which Christianity would form, in all 
its nobleness, its generosity, its amiableness, and 
its integrity, is indeed a burning and a shining" 
light. He illumines with a lustre which nothing 
can dim. He does more to silence the cavils olT 



MORAL CULTURE, 67 

the gainsayer, and to bring conviction to the 
mind of the sceptic, than volumes of unanswer- 
able argument. Mother, would you have your 
child a christian? Shew him every day, and 
every hour, by your life, what religion is. Let 
him see that it controls your passions, that it 
cheers your spirits, that it warms, and animates 
your affections. Reader are you mourning over 
the thoughtlessness of any friend? Your most 
effectual appeal to him will be, the submission 
of your spirit, the warmth and fervor of your 
heart. Urge him to become a christian, by the 
exhibition of your happy and blameless life. 
Persuade him to become a follower of Christ, by 
your kindness, your disinterestedness, your social 
benevolence, your conscientious avoidance of 
every appearance of evil. But if you are petulant 
in your habits, dissatisfied and complaining in 
disposition, oh do not by verbal appeals, increase 
the disgust, with which you have already inspired 
your friend, against the religion you profess. 

5. Let not the attainment of happiness be 
your direct object. Happiness is seldom found 
when it is the direct object of search. When 
we relinquish its pursuit, and endeavor to serve 
God, because He is our friend, and we love 
Him and ought to serve Him, then it is that we 
find happiness the unfailing companion of duty. 



6S MORAL CULTURE. 

The parent who walks the chamber, during the 
long and weary hours of the night, soothing his 
sick, and suffering child, does not do this to 
promote his own happiness. He forgets himself, 
in his love for the sufferer. And yet it cannot 
be doubted that, constituted as he is, under these 
circumstances, he cannot pass the night so 
pleasantly, in any other way. When a friend 
urges him to retire to, a distant apartment to 
sleep, he says, "No! I should be very unhappy 
to leave my child in such a state." And yet 
when he watches through the long night, with 
the child, it is not that he may make himself 
happy. He forgets himself, and his whole soul 
is engrossed, not with the desire of receiving 
enjoyment, but of communicating it. And it is 
the exercise of this benevolence, going out from 
self, which constitutes his happiness. 

God, in His wisdom, has so framed us, that 
the path of duty is always the path of enjoyment; 
and we should walk in that path, not because it 
is the way to be happy, but because it is right 
in the sight of God. Forget self. Look away 
from personal interest, and try to do good and 
to live a holy life, that you may please God. 
Let the prominent object in your mind ever be, 
obedience to the will of your Maker. Let that 



MORAL CULTURE. 69 

be the final, the efficient motive in all your 
actions. 

One cold wintry day, tidings came to an af- 
fectionate daughter, that her Father was at the 
point of death. He was thirty miles from her. 
The sun was already sinking behind the hills, 
and the air was filled with the snow, whirled by 
the fierce blast. But she immediately left her 
warm fire, and entering a sleigh with a little 
child for her driver, faced the cold fury of the 
tempestuous night. Hour after hour, they 
toiled their weary way, through wind and snow, 
till the first grey tints of the morning, found her 
at the bedside of the dying. 

Now was this daughter, in this act of filial 
duty, actuated by selfish considerations. Did 
she stop to consult for her own happiness, and 
carefully to decide, whether that would be most 
promoted by remaining in quietude at her 
cheerful fireside, or by exposing herself to the 
wintry blast. No! She said, my dear father is 
dying, and I must go to see him. She thought 
not of self, of happiness. She thought only of 
her dying father, and was impelled by her affec- 
tion for him, to encounter any dangers, and any 
sufferings, that she might soothe his last mo- 
ments. 



70 MORAL CULTURE. 

And yet it is unquestionably true that, with 
the affections which God had given her, she 
could have pursued no other course which 
would have been so promotive of her own happi- 
ness. Had she shrunk from exposure, and re" 
mained at home, a remorseful conscience, would 
have disquieted her, and, for the remainder of 
life, she would have reflected upon herself, for 
a neglect of filial duty. Now the retrospect 
of that midnight ride must ever cheer her 
mind, with reflections pleasing, though pensive. 
Whenever the image of her departed father is 
called up in her memory, it must awaken pleas- 
urable emotions. 

It is this desire to do our duty; it is this 
strong and impelling affection, which should 
ever animate us. Feeling that God is our 
Father, and our friend, we should be willing to 
do any thing, and suffer any thing, which will 
afford Him gratification. We should do this, 
because we love Him. Then will happiness 
come unsought. She will remain with us an 
unfailing companion, accompanying us in our 
future flight to a better world. 

Upon this subject, there is no occasion to 
perplex the mind, with subtle speculation. The 
duties which God enjoins upon us, are all plain 
to common sense. Every one understands what 



MORAL CULTURE. 71 

it is, to forget selfish gratification, out of regard 
to the welfare of others. And this is the spirit, 
which Christianity inculcates. Let us love and 
obey God, because He is worthy of all love, and 
obedience. Let us be kind to our fellow crea- 
tures, and be ready to sacrifice our own conve- 
nience, to promote their happiness, because this 
is well pleasing to their Father, and our Father. 
Let us do this, and we shall have that approba- 
tion of conscience, and favor of God which 
secures to ourselves, here on earth, the highest 
degree of happiness consistent with the condi- 
tion of man, and prepares us for unfailing and 
unalloyed enjoyment forever. 

6. Cultivate decision of character. There 
is a trait of character, which not unfrequently 
falls under our observation called stubbornness, 
or obstinacy. It is a degrading principle, 
founded in ignorance. The vilest, the most 
abandoned of our species exhibit it in its rank- 
est virulence. It has no ear for the voice of 
reason. It has no heart for the persuasions of 
friendship. It is a kind of swinish instinct. A 
genuinely obstinate man, is beyond the influ- 
ence of moral suasion. Upon the veriest trifles 
he is inflexible. He will have his own way, 
however unimportant it may be, or however 
much it may incommode others. He shuts his 



72 MORAL CULTURE, 

eyes and rushes on. He closes his ear and 
presses forward, and whether right or wrong it 
matters not. A more stupid, degrading, odious 
state of mind, can hardly be witnessed. 

True decision is as distinct from stubborn- 
ness as light is from darkness. Decision is 
founded upon knowledge; it is guided by en- 
lightened reason. When duty does not forbid, 
it is as yielding as the air; the slightest wishes 
of a friend may bend it; it will even anticipate 
a friend's desires and gladly yield to afford grat- 
ification. But when duty is concerned, — when 
conscience speaks with her imperious voice, 
the everlasting hills are not more immovable. 
No blandishments can entice; no threats can 
intimidate. A world in arms cannot change 
the inflexible purpose of the soul. It can no 
more be moved by the opposition or the ridicule 
of man, than the sun in the Heavens by the 
fogs of earth. True decision is guided by rea- 
son; its eye is ever open; its ear catches every 
passing sound, its heart is tender; and thus it 
acts, mildly, yet firmly, under all the light and 
all the knowledge which can be obtained. 

This decision is a principle which piety in- 
culcates and strengthens. Though it may exist 
in very different degrees of strength in individ- 
ual bosoms it is absolutely essential to chris- 



MORAL CULTURE. 73 

tian character. With some it seems to be a 
natural trait, appearing in infancy and growing 
with their growth. With others it is, appa- 
rently, altogether acquired. But whether natu- 
ral or acquired it is inseparable from Christian 
usefulness and happiness. 

Look at the condition of the Christian and 
see how essential it is, that this governing prin- 
ciple should animate him. He is in a world 
where ten thousand allurements are drawing 
him away from the path of duty. Gaiety 
comes and, with winning smiles, and courtly 
speech and flattering protestations of friendship, 
strives to lure him to her luxuriant and dissi- 
pated bowers. Wealth appears, with her glit- 
ter, and strives to dazzle the eye, and to seduce 
the heart. Scorn comes, with sneering lip, 
and scowling brow, and stands in the Chris- 
tian's path, endeavoring to make him ashamed 
to walk in that unfrequented way. Fear meets 
him, with pallid cheek and trembling limbs, to 
tell him how rugged the hill, how dark the 
night, and how dreadfully the lions roar in the 
path. And Indolence presents her stupifying 
drugs, that he may be enticed to slumber and 
perish. Now how can the Christian overcome 
these, and innumerable other adversaries, if his 
spirit is as fluctuating as the wind? How can 



74 MORAL CULTURE. 

he reach his journey's end, if he yield to the 
allurements of gaiety, and pursue the phantoms 
of wealth, and shrink before the sneers of scorn, 
and recoil at the suggestions of fear, and sink 
down into inglorious repose, when indolence, 
with drawling speech and drowsy eye, entices 
him to her couch? No! there must be deci- 
sion animating the pilgrim in his progress, or 
he never, — never can surmount the dangers 
and the temptations of the way. As a ship 
buffets the waves of the ocean, keeping a steady 
course to its destined haven, taking advantage 
of winds apparently adverse, and never veering 
from its true course, unless compelled by uncon- 
trollable necessity, — so is the Christian required 
steadily to fix his eye on Heaven; to meet the 
storms and tempests of life without turning from 
his purpose; to press onward whether friends 
encourage or foes assail. He is to go right 
onward, in the path of duty, leaving the conse- 
quences with God. If poverty, if contempt, if 
alienation of friends, if death be the result, he 
is not to shrink; he is not to be intimidated. 
Calmly, kindly and firmly, he is to do his duty. 
No matter how great the sacrifice; if it be like 
plucking out a right eye, or cutting off a right 
arm, it must be done. 

If a daughter must thus be debarred from 
her paternal home, and turned houseless and 



MORAL CULTURE. 



75 



friendless upon the world; if a wife must thus 
lose a husband's affections, and even -awaken 
bitterness in the bosom where love once dwelt; 
if a son must inherit a Father's displeasure, 
instead of his benediction, by acknowledging 
the Savior and walking in the paths of piety, 
it must be done. "Whosoever," saith Christ, 
"loveth father or mother more than me, is not 
worthy of me." If in consequence of Christian 
decision we should be led to the stake, as has 
already been the case with innumerable mar- 
tyrs, we must not swerve from duty. He who 
would thus save his life, must lose it eternally. 

There is hardly any person more universally 
disdained, than one who is so cowardly or un- 
stable as not to live consistently with his avowed 
opinions. Such a man's character is at the 
mercy of other's. Or rather he has no charac- 
ter of his own. He goes where he is led. He 
follows the crowd, unwilling to incur the sin- 
gularity of turning from the beaten track. He 
is like a feather upon the waters, tossed by 
every wave, blown by every wind. Such a man, 
if a professor of religion, is continually dishon- 
oring the cause of his Master. He is literally 
all things to all men. He will go to a church 
upon the sabbath, where he does not believe 
that the gospel is preached, and while he thinks 



7G MORAL CULTURE. 

that he is conciliating esteem, he is securing 
the contempt of every intelligent man. With 
the worldly and the gay, he will countenance 
scenes of amusement, which his judgment con- 
demns, and will try to appease the reproaches of 
conscience by fancying that he is thus disarming 
prejudice and gaining an influence, which he 
will afterwards use to some good purpose. But, 
in heart, he knows that it is wretched imbecility 
that governs him. Who can respect a man, 
who does not live consistently with his opinions? 
Who does not more highly esteem an honest, 
candid, manly opponent, than a man of such 
pusillanimity of spirit that he is afraid to avow 
himself as either a friend or a foe? 

We have heard of a man who fell into the 
water, and was near being drowned. As his 
loud outcries brought many to the shore to wit- 
ness his struggles, they were astonished to hear 
him screaming in a voice of terror, 'good God, 
good devil, good God, good devil.' He was, 
however, at length, rescued from the waves and 
brought to the shore. When his friends in- 
quired the reason for such singular exclama- 
tions, he replied, "I knew not into whose hands 
I should fall, and I wanted to make peace with 
both." There are many such persons in the 
world, who are every day, and every hour of 



MORAL CULTURE. 



77 



their lives, practically exclaiming, "good God, 
good devil." Such a person must be ever mise- 
rable. He must feel that he deserves contempt. 

If we would be happy, we must have a peace- 
ful conscience. And unless we have, in some 
degree at least, the spirit of Christ, we must 
ever feel the reproaches of that faithful monitor. 
How manifestly was He superior to all earthly 
temptations. What threats could intimidate 
Him? What terrors could cause Him to aban- 
don duty? What fascinations could allure Him 
into the paths of sinful pleasures? What pros- 
pect of worldly emolument could induce Him to 
lay aside his self denial, and relinquish His 
benevolent efforts. He had the same serene, 
and settled purpose of soul, when the multitude 
cried Hosannah, as when crucify him, was 
mingled with their imprecations. With a spirit 
humble, affectionate, obliging and childlike, 
there was a decision, "stable as the pillared 
firmament." Poverty, — reproach, — death mov- 
ed Him no more, than the slightest zephyrs 
which fanned His houseless head. 

If you would be useful, decision must be with 
you a cardinal virtue. If you would have peace 
of mind in this world, and be happy in the world 
to come, you must be consistent and decided. 
7 



7S MORAL CULTURE. 

Ever bear in mind that 



Happiness must have her seat, 
And centre in the breast. 



The politician can not find it in gratified am- 
bition, the merchant can not find it in increas- 
ing wealth; the devotee of pleasure can not find 
it in the giddy rounds of gaiety. The fountains 
must be opened in our own hearts, by cherish- 
ing those feelings and affections, which God 
has enjoined. 

"He's not the Happy Man, to whom is given 
A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven; 
Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise, 
And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes. 
When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves 
While youth and health and vigor string his nerves. 
Even not all these in one rich lot combin'd, 
Can make the happy man, without the mind; 
Where social love exerts her soft command, 
And plays the passions with a tender hand, 
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife, 
And all the moral harmony of life. 



THE FAMILY. 79 



CHAPTER III. 



THE FAMILY. 



If there are any joys on earth, which har- 
monize with those of heaven, they are the joys 
of a christian family. When the snow flakes fall 
fast in the wintry evening, and the moaning 
winds struggle at the windows, what is so de- 
lightful as to see the happy little ones, sporting 
around the blazing tire. Look at that little 
creature in her nightdress, frolicking, and 
laughing, as though she never had known, and 
never would know a care. Now she rolls upon 
the carpet; now she climbs the chair, and now 
she pursues her older sister around the room, 
while her little heart is overflowingly full of hap- 
piness. Who does not covet the pleasurable 
emotions with which the parents look upon this 
lovely scene? 

But with these joys, are associated responsi- 
bilities. All the inmates of this family are im- 
mortal. This, home of their childhood must be 
either the nursery of heaven, or the broad gate 



80 THE FAMILY. 

of destruction. These infant prattlers are ac- 
quiring feelings and habits, which are to control 
them through life and to guide their destinies 
forever. How necessary then, that purifying 
influences should surround them in their early 
home! How important the duties, devolving 
upon those, who have the control of the family! 
How soon will this household be scattered! This 
little boy now so timid, and susceptible to every 
impression, may soon be breasting the storms of 
a distant ocean, or controlling the decisions of 
justice and law, or mingling in the angry con- 
flict of armies. He may be honored for his 
virtues and his influence, or be an outlaw, pur- 
sued by justice, and the hopeless victim of 
wretchedness and crime. He must soon strug- 
gle in the embrace of death, and his spirit go to 
other worlds, to range infinite space, to exist 
'hrough endless ages, to be a happy associate 
with adoring angels, or leagued in rebellion, to 
wage dreadful and eternal warfare, against the 
government of God. This little girl may live to 
be in her turn, the happy parent, rejoicing in 
the opening virtues, and increasing love, of her 
children; or a wretched outcast, strolling in 
shame, a disgrace to herself, her friends, and 
her sex. She may go down to the grave burd- 



THE FAMILY. 81 

ened with sins, which will sink her to the deepest 
abyss of the sinner's glooms. 

How many parents have found life cheered 
by the virtues of their children; have had all 
life's blessings multiplied, and every individual 
blessing magnified, by the affection of those, 
whom they have nurtured to virtue. Even the 
joys of youth, with its vigor and its ardent hopes, 
cannot sustain a comparison with those of ven- 
erable age, when surrounded with the reverence 
of children, and grand children. He who lives 
to a good old age, with passions subdued, and a 
mind disciplined to serenity, as he looks upon 
his grand children clambering upon his knee, 
or riding upon his cane, enjoys some of the most 
precious emotions of happiness, which this life 
affords. 

But on the other hand, how many parents 
have wept in agony, that their children were 
ever born. How many have said, 'oh that my 
child had died in the innocent hours of infancy, 
or that I had died before this dreadful day?' 
What scene of sorrow can earth afford, more 
affecting, than that of an aged parent, weeping 
over his ruined family, and going down with a 
broken heart to the grave. 

Around the fireside they are probably acquir- 
ing unchanging characters, for good or ill. They 



82 THE FAMILY. 

will probably go on through time and through 
eternity in that direction, upon which they enter 
during the first few years of life. The stamp is 
in your hand, with which to place upon their 
characters, that impress which never can be 
effaced. It is therefore almost impossible to 
exaggerate the importance of domestic influ- 
ence. 

1. Family Prayer, is an indispensable requi- 
site in the promotion of domestic happiness. 
The man who neglects this duty, whatever may 
be his theoretical notions about religion, is a 
practical atheist. However loud may be his 
professions, his conduct refutes them all. It is 
totally absurd for one to pretend to the christian 
character, who is neglecting the practical duties 
if religion. It matters not how orthodox his 
creed; it matters not how ostentatious his zeal, 
if his heart does not impel him to gather his 
family around him, and to commend them, with 
himself, to the divine protection, it is certain, 
that he is a stranger to all the feelings of the 
renewed heart. If he is not allured to this ex- 
ercise by his own desires; if he needs to be 
driven to it by authoritative commands; if he is 
looking about for excuses for forsaking God's 
altar, he has not that spirit which is essential to 
piety. The man who loves God, and is sensible 



THE FAMILY. 83 

of his dependance upon God, must feel, that 
hardly any earthly deprivation would be so great, 
as the loss of the privilege of family worship. 
He is urged by the strong impulse of a grateful 
heart, to the morning and the evening altar. 
He is impelled by a sense of his own necessities 
and helplessness. He is allured by an attrac- 
tion of love and reverence, which he can find no 
will to resist. He who is dragged reluctantly 
to the throne of grace, is the slave of sin. His 
heart must be wrong. 

At this exercise all the members of the house- 
hold should be assembled. If any individual is 
unwilling to recognise the existence, and the 
authority of God, by meeting with the family for 
prayer, such an one ought not to be allowed to 
remain an inmate, of a christian dwelling. It 
is vain here to plead conscientious scruples. A 
man may as well say, that he feels conscientiously 
bound, to go unwashed, or undressed, as to 
affirm that his conscience, will not let him unite 
in prayer to God. If an individual is found with 
an understanding, and a heart so perverted, the 
christian should have conscience enough to say, 
let him then go in peace, but I will not employ, 
in my family, one who interrupts its harmony, 
and injures the moral sense, of my children, by 
his v/icked example.' Let every man worship 



84 



THE FAMILY. 



God, according to the dictates of his own con- 
science. Let religion in all its forms be as free 
as the mind. But let no one come and demand 
employment and admission into a christian fam- 
ily, while denying and dishonoring the creator 
of the world. 

This subject is one which at the present time 
is of most momentous importance. Every day 
the emigrant's ship, is pouring thousands upon 
our shores, who are ignorant of the claims of 
God's law, and almost of their own immortality. 
They come strong in passion, but powerless in 
principle. They are capable of sweeping over 
our land, with the desolation of the whirlwind, 
and of prostrating our institutions before the 
lawless violence of the mob, or of becoming men 
of respectability, and of salutary influence. They 
are accompanied by professedly spiritual guides, 
who are deeply interested in excluding from their 
minds, all light and knowledge, which may tend 
to weaken the influence of a degrading super- 
stition. Every avenue to their understanding 
is watched with an eagle eye, lest some enlight- 
ening truth, should find its way there, and reveal 
to them, the spiritual thraldom by which they 
have been defrauded. The hearing of a prayer 
offered to God, may rouse the soul from its 



THE FAMILY. 85 

degrading servitude, to spiritual freedom, and 
therefore is much influence exerted to prevent 
their being present at such prayers. This 
young girl, who lives in your family, with foreign 
accent and rude, uncultivated, yet, affectionate 
feelings, will, probably, ere long, be the mother 
and instructress and guide of a numerous family. 
The only school she can enjoy, to prepare her 
for these responsible duties, is the few months 
she passes under your roof. Till she came to 
your dwelling she, perhaps, never heard the 
voice of sincere and heartfelt prayer, and when 
she leaves your dwelling, she may never hear 
that voice again. She has seen nothing of re- 
ligion but ceremonial pomp. She knows nothing 
of her accountability to God. She has no con- 
ception of her own sinfulness, or of the way of 
salvation. God has placed her for a few months, 
under your influence, and what you do for her 
must be done quickly. To a great degree her 
own character and that of her future children is 
dependent upon your exertions. Bring then 
every holy influence in your power, to bear upon 
her mind and her heart. And above all things, 
let her hear your confessions of sin, your ac- 
knowledgment of duty, and your prayer for 
heavenly guidance, and forgiveness. 
8 



86 



THE FAMILY. 



You have a young man in your employ. He 
has just come from the ignorance, and the deg- 
radation of his foreign home, to seek his fortune 
in this new world. He is a stranger to our cus- 
toms, and with an understanding totally unin- 
structed, is easily made the victim of the vicious, 
and the dupe of the designing. Soon he is to be 
an American citizen; with all the rights, and 
all the political power, our free constitution gives. 
He is to help frame our laws, and choose our 
rulers. Soon he will leave your home, for a 
dwelling of his own, and his moral image, whether 
it be that of ignorance and vice, or intelligence 
and virtue, will be transmitted to perhaps a 
dozen children, inheriting the American's birth- 
right. Not a few would gladly keep him in 
ignorance, and shut out from his soul, the light 
of true piety. God has placed him for a time 
under your tuition. He has given you a strong 
influence over his mind, and the most favorable 
opportunity for exerting that influence; and if 
you neglect the duty thus devolving upon you, 
you neglect one of the most important responsi- 
bilities of your life, and you cannot be held 
guiltless. Let him be in reality a member of 
your family; let him share in all the privileges, 
and all the purifying influences of your devo- 
tion. Perhaps the flame which warms your 



THE FAMILY. 87 

heart may be enkindled in his. The views of 
truth, which you express in prayer and praise, 
may communicate light to his mind, which in 
no other way can be imparted. 

The foreign population now crowding to our 
shores, from which we have already experienced 
so many eviis, and have so many still to appre- 
hend, would soon be disarmed of all dangerous 
power, were we to receive them with kindness 
and hospitality, and really to exert ourselves for 
their welfare. They are brought, from coun- 
tries of papal darkness, from associations of op- 
pression, and from where the extreme of poverty 
secures its attendant calamities of intellectual 
and moral degradation. And there, in their 
penury, and in their mental and spiritual ignor- 
ance, fortified by the most powerful superstition, 
and with passions inflamed by the insane policy 
of civil and ecclesiastical governments, they are 
almost inaccessible by any moral influences. 
The christian Missionary can get no access to 
their dwellings, and far less can he get access 
to their hearts. The printed page they dare Lot 
receive; and if received, it conveys no ideas to 
their benighted minds. 

Now God allures them away from these 
strongholds of sin. He separates them from 
their associates, and brings them, as strangers, 



OO THE FAMILY. 

to this land of strangers. They come with 
friendly feelings, seeking a refuge. They are 
scattered throughout the country, and placed in 
the families of the intelligent, and the pious. 
It is indeed a peculiar providence, which is thus 
dividing this otherwise impregnable force of sin, 
and opening its ranks, and separating individual, 
from individual, that the light of truth may, from 
every direction, beam in around them. It seems 
as though God, by special design, had placed 
these strangers in our families, and dependant 
upon our kindness, that we might instil into 
their hearts christian principles and mould their 
characters aright. We should welcome them 
with the utmost cordiality, and manifest towards 
them untiring benevolence. Every family should 
receive with christian sympathy, all who are in 
its employ; and especially should that sympathy 
be manifested, by the assemblage of the whole 
household at family prayer. The soothing spirit 
of devotion is as oil to the wheels of domestic 
life. It tunes the otherwise discordant instru- 
ment, and sweetest harmony is the result. It 
tends to inspire each individual with fidelity to 
his maker and to his fellow men. It promotes 
temporal prosperity, and secures spiritual peace. 
It enlightens the understanding, and affects the 
heart. 



THE FAMILY. 89 

The father who neglects the duty of family 
prayer, may just about as well say, in words to 
his children, I do not believe that there is any 
reality iu religion. They see that their father 
does not feel his dependance upon God; that he 
does not deem it necessary to pray to Him. 
Thus is God excluded from their hearts, and 
they are led by parental example, to prayerless- 
ness and sin. A prayerless family, must be in 
the sight of God a hideous spectacle. God is 
banished from his own dominions — from that 
spot which he blessed above all others, and where 
above all others, it is important that His au- 
thority should be recognised. 

Judiciously conducted, family prayer is a con- 
stant appeal to the heart, and the consciences 
of children. It continually impresses upon their 
minds the sense of God's presence and their 
duty. It subdues the strength of evil passions, 
it fortifies them with correct principles. It en- 
lightens their consciences, and thus restrains 
from sin! It acts upon the soul beneficially in 
every respect in which the soul can be ben- 
efitted. The young man who leaves such a 
parental roof, to encounter the temptations of 
life, is fortified by a strength of inward princi- 
ple, which has been daily, and yearly accumu- 
lating, at the family altar. And when he hears 
8* 



90 THE FAMILY. 

the oath of his associate, he trembles. And 
when he sees the dissolute, going in the paths of 
sinful indulgence, he will not follow. The voice 
of a father's prayers is not forgotten. Its still 
and persuasive monitions, follow him through 
all the turmoil and thickening cares of life. 

It is a sabbath morning in winter. The 
breakfast table is early removed, and the family 
are assembled around the blazing hearth. Father 
and mother, brothers and sisters, with others 
in the employment of the family, encircle the 
fireside. The Father has previously selected an 
interesting extract, from a religious paper, or 
book, which one of the older children reads. 
They then read in rotation from the Bible. The 
hymn is read, and infant voices rise sweetly, to 
the ear of God, mingling in the notes of family 
praise. They then bow in prayer. And as the 
father gives utterance to his feelings of penitence, 
and gratitude — as his heart grows warm with 
the glow of devotion, the whole household is im- 
pressed with a sense of the reality, and excel- 
lence of religion. 

As the bell summons them to the church, they 
go with feelings prepared to be rightly affected 
by the preaching of the gospel. As the minis- 
ter pleads the cause of righteousness, and un- 
folds the scenes of a judgment to come, the truth 



THE FAMILY. 91 

descends with power, upon these hearts, dis- 
armed and opened for its reception. Think you 
that this young man, who has just come from 
the bosom of a christian family, and from the 
warm utterance of a father's prayers; who has 
just been reading his bible, and uniting in the 
morning hymn of praise; whose affections are 
enlivened by the recent melody of the christians 
song; think you that he can listen, as coldly and 
insensibly, to these appeals to his conscience 
and his heart, as can that young man by his 
side, who has never heard a father's prayers, 
and who has, perhaps, seldom seen his father 
even look into the word of God. No! while the 
one struggles in vain, to conceal his emotion, 
the other sleeps in unconcern. The one, in all 
human probability, will soon join the church of 
Christ here on earth, eventually to be a member 
of the church triumphant in the skies. The 
other will go on to live without God, and with- 
out God to die. Compare the records of our 
churches, with the secret history of families, and 
it will be found, that the children of prayer are 
pre-eminently those, who are gathered into the 
kingdom of God. 

The impression, which is produced upon the 
mind, by the instructions of the sabbath, is 
strengthened by the home scenes of the week. 



92 THE FAMILY. 

After the exercises of the day are over, and the 
family is again assembled, in the silence of the 
evening, for the evening hymn and prayer, the 
emotions which the day has awakened, are in- 
creased in intensity, and the resolutions to 
which the day has given birth, are renewed by 
the humbled spirit. During all the week, each 
morning and evening, these impressions are 
revived till another sabbath comes, with its new 
energies of moral power. 

A young man, who had recently become a 
Christian, was greatly tried upon this subject. 
He was a mechanic, of much intelligence, but 
naturally diffident. A large number of young 
men, as journeymen and apprentices, many of 
them older than himself, boarded in his family. 
For a time he could not summon resolution to 
commence family prayer, before so numerous an 
audience, and as a substitute had morning and 
evening prayers with his wife, in their chamber. 
But a voice within, continually reproached him 
with dereliction of duty. He could find no 
peace of mind. He was a stranger to spiritual 
enjoyment. Conscience told him that he was 
shrinking from the responsibilities of the Chris- 
tian, through dread of the slighting remarks of 
his fellow creatures. He knew that the irre- 
ligious members of his family marked his neg- 



THE FAMILY. 93 

lect, and that thej must feel that his profession 
was in vain. For many weeks he thus tam- 
pered with conscience, and with duty, and con- 
sequently, was a stranger to peace. At last he 
resolved that he would no longer be recreant to 
his Christian vows; that he would no longer 
refuse to discharge any duty, which God should 
see fit to place upon him. 

As he met his numerous family of boarders, 
at the breakfast table, in the morning, he said 
to them. "My conscience has long been reprov- 
ing me, for my neglect of family prayer. I 
have not felt able to summon courage, to lead 
in prayer, before so large a family as I have at 
present. But I am satisfied that this timidity is 
sinful, and I cannot any longer neglect this 
duty. I shall hereafter have morning prayers, 
immediately after breakfast, and evening prayers 
at nine o'clock, and I should be happy to have 
all the members of the family, who feel willing, 
unite with us in the exercise." I believe no 
one left the room, as, at the close of the meal, 
he took the Bible and read a short passage of 
scripture, and all gave respectful attention, as 
he implored the presence, and blessing of God. 
And as he pronounced the word amen, the 
spiritual burden was rolled from his mind, and 
he found that the path of duty is the path of 



94 



THE FAMILY. 



peace. Now this looks like consistent piety. 
The man who manifests this decision, must be 
useful, and cannot but be respected. The most 
bitter foe of religion, the most scornful caviler, 
cannot withhold admiration from the exhibition 
of humble, yet firm and consistent piety. And 
God has so formed our souls, that there is sat- 
isfaction and delight, in the consciousness of 
duty discharged. 

The more numerous a family is, the more 
important it is, that its lawful head, should pre- 
sent the example of consistent, decided and un- 
wavering piety. If thoughtless young men are 
members of the household, how important is it 
that they should witness the daily recognition 
of God, and listen to the utterance of pious 
feelings. These are the moral conflicts in 
which the young soldier of the cross must en- 
gage. He is not called to charge in the face of 
glittering bayonets, and before the cannons 
mouth. But he is often summoned to the exer- 
cise of courage, of far more difficult attainment. 
He must daily be animated by a spiritual bold- 
ness of nobler nature. There is no cowardice 
so inexcusable and fatal in its consequences, as 
that of the Christian. His conduct is watched 
with eagle eyes. His neglect of duty is carefully 
noted, by those around him. Some young wild 



THE FAMILY. 95 

fire, sarcastically says, "Our good master here, 
is truly a brave Christian! He does not fear 
God, half as much as he does us!" What must 
be the influence of such impressions, upon the 
minds of the young and thoughtless. 

2. Every parent should make the direct re- 
ligious instruction of his family, an object of his 
care and efforts. There are not a few clergy- 
men, eminent for piety, and extensive useful- 
ness, who have been punished for their remiss- 
ness in this duty, by the ruin of their children. 
The father goes into the study early in the 
morning. He is visiting his parishioners in the 
afternoon. In the evening he seeks repose from 
mental exhaustion by general reading, or is 
absent from home to attend a lecture. He can 
find no time to devote to his children, and feels 
that it is some excuse, that his time and atten- 
tion are entirely consecrated to christian use- 
fulness. But God does not hold him guiltless. 
And he does not interfere with the established 
principles of moral influences, to accommodate 
the practices of this individual. Time rolls on. 
The son arrives at manhood, and the father ad- 
vances to gray hairs. And now you witness 
the fearful consequences, which God has con- 
nected with this neglect. The son is ruined, and 
the father's heart is broken, and his mind pre- 



96 THE FAMILY. 

maturely impaired, by grief. He cannot soothe 
his troubled spirit, and he wears away the lin- 
gering years of old age, in almost unalleviated 
affliction. He reaps as he has sown. He has 
been laborious and faithful in his parochial 
duties, and consequently has secured to himself 
the respect, and attachment, which almost in- 
variably are connected with a useful life. He 
has neglected his children, and consequently 
they bring down his gray hairs with sorrow to 
the grave. The few individual cases in which 
by some special providence this ruin is averted, 
form the exceptions, and not the rule. God has 
so invariably connected punishment with the 
neglect of these duties, as to leave no doubt 
upon the mind respecting His will. If God has 
entrusted to your keeping, an immortal spirit, 
He expects that you will attend to that trust. 
You are to regard it, as your first duty, subor- 
dinate to no other. You have no right to take 
upon yourself any obligations, to church or 
state, which shall render it necessary for you 
practically to say to God, I have no time to 
devote to this immortal spirit, which you have 
entrusted to my guidance. That service, can- 
not be acceptable to God, which is at the ex- 
pense of your parental obligations. God has 
never required such service, at your hands. A 



THE FAMILY. 97 

man may more reasonably leave his own family 
to starve, while wandering hither, and thither, 
to search out objects of charity, than leave his 
own children to spiritual poverty and death, 
while devoting his exclusive attention, to the 
lanes and the alleys, of a spiritually impover- 
ished world. He thus neglects a greater duty 
for a less. 

A clergyman is invited to take the agency of 
some religious society, which will render it 
necessary for him to spend most of his time 
away from home. He has several boys, just at 
that age, in which boys most demand a father's 
watchful care. Shall he leave them, to form 
their characters, without a Father's guidance, 
that he may engage in these distant duties? 
Many while feeling most deeply the sacrifice, 
have decided that it was a duty. But I must 
think the decision is erroneous, and more than 
this, that the providence of God, has shewn us 
that it is wrong. We cannot conceive of a 
more sacred trust, than an immortal spirit, 
committed to our special care. And if we neg- 
lect this trust, for any cause whatever, we must 
expect, to find ourselves, in conflict, with the 
principles of God's government. 

Look at the sons of the wealthy, and the emi- 
nent. How few surmount temptation, and live 
9 



98 THE FAMILY. 

to be an honor to their parents. What is pro- 
fessional celebrity, what are a few thousands of 
dollars in comparison, with a son of elevated 
moral worth? What can so cheer us, in life's 
declining years, as the virtues of our children? 
What legacy can a good man leave the world to 
be compared in value with a son or daughter, 
with warm affections and powerful mind, conse- 
crated to the service of God? 

Many fathers appear to think that the reli- 
gious instruction of the children devolves ex- 
clusively upon the mother. They act upon this 
principle. If God so regarded it, He would, in 
justice order that the consequences of their ruin 
should fall upon the mother alone. God has, 
by connecting both parents in the penalty of the 
neglect, shewn that the responsibility is equally 
divided. The father who does not pray with 
his children; who does not with his own lips 
guide their infant affections to . the Savior; 
who does not give time and thought to their 
mental and moral culture, must expect that the 
displeasure of God will meet him, embittering 
his declining days and almost destroying the 
anticipation of joy in Heaven. How many 
dreadful facts might in this connection be nar- 
rated, which would cause even the ears of them 
that hear to tingle. I write now, with a mind 



THE FAMILY. 99 

oppressed by the recent intelligence of such a 
case, awful to the parents beyond every hope of 
earthly consolation; — and a case in which the 
ruin of a talented son and only child, is almost 
directly traceable to the inconsistency of a pro- 
fessedly christian father. 

3. Be tolerant to the religious views of the 
different members of your family. The re- 
ligious community is divided into various de- 
nominations all assuming the name of christians. 
It often happens that a family is unfortunately 
divided in their religious sentiments. The hus- 
band is perhaps a Congregationalist. The wife 
feels conscientiously bound to unite with the 
Methodists. The daughter thinks that she shall 
sin against scripture and conscience, if she does 
not, by immersion, enter a Baptist church. It 
is indeed unfortunate that a family, otherwise 
living so happily together, should be thus divided. 
And any sacrifice, but the sacrifice of principle, 
should be made, rather than have such divisions 
exist. It is a melancholy spectacle to see father 
and mother, brother and sisters, separating upon 
the Sabbath unable to go to the house of God in 
company. Still in the present state of the world 
such cases must occur. There will be in the 
same family, the converted and the unconverted, 
the disciples of the Savior and the votaries of 



100 THE FAMILY. 

the world. Christian principle will compel to 
separation. And thus will opposition to pure 
religion, "set a man at variance against his 
father, and the daughter against her mother, 
and the daughter in law against her mother in 
law." We are taught in the Bible to expect 
such trials, and God alone can comfort us under 
them. But we must ever remember that the 
Savior has said, " he that loveth father or mother 
more than me is not worthy of me, and he that 
loveth son or daughter more than me is not 
worthy of me." Afflicted christian ! the day is 
near when all tears will be wiped from your 
eyes. Let this thought cheer you, and you will 
find the path of duty, even though painful, the 
path of peace. 

Each family is in itself an independant em- 
pire, of which the father is the law-giver and the 
monarch. He has power to oppress his wife. 
He has power to oppress his child. The arm of 
the state cannot be thrust in, and the cry of op- 
pression may not come out. The relation be- 
tween parent and child is such, that it is the 
parent's duty, for many years, to secure the 
strict obedience of the child. He is to instruct 
his child in religion, and is to enforce, if neces- 
sary, his attendance upon ail those means of 
instruction, which the parent thinks proper. 



THE FAMILY. 101 

But when that child's mind has arrived at such 
a degree of maturity that it is capable of judging 
for itself; when that child intelligently adopts 
its religious belief, sensible of its accountability 
to God, then farther restraint is persecution. It 
is the exercise of precisely the same spirit which 
led to the " act of uniformity," and the " test 
act," and all the outrages of the " court of high 
commission." 

If the wife be not permitted to worship God as 
she pleases, her liberty of conscience is destroy- 
ed. She is persecuted. What does religious 
liberty mean? Simply that men may worship 
God as their consciences dictate, and that 
women have no rights of conscience. It is a 
Mahomedan doctrine that women have no souls, 
and from the conduct of some husbands, we fear 
it may be inferred that it is a Christian doctrine 
also. If you compel your wife to attend a form 
of worship in which she cannot unite, or if you 
attempt to harass or obstruct her in that form 
of worship which she deems proper, you are ex- 
ercising an intolerance as relentless as that 
which erected the Spanish inquisition, and kin- 
dled the fires of Smithfield. It is feared that 
developements might be made, which would 
show that even in this free country, the perse- 
cuting spirit of paoacy is not dead. It is feared 
9* 



102 THE FAMILY. 

that there is many a lady in our land, now 
groaning under religious bondage. She has no 
recognised religious rights. She is the bond 
slave of her husband; and she is compelled to 
follow him to the temple he frequents, be it ever 
so obnoxious to her own conscience and repug- 
nant to her own feelings. Can that mind be 
liberalized by learning, can that heart be sub- 
dued by piety, which, under all the light of the 
present day, can perpetrate such outrages against 
the religious liberty of a fellow immortal? The 
man who will not tolerate religious liberty in his 
family, wants but the power to crush the spirit 
of free enquiry in the state. He who will make 
the companion of his life the miserable victim of 
religious persecution, would surely feel less re- 
luctance to wield this oppressive power over the 
consciences of others. Toleration, like charity, 
should begin at home. 

Have respect for the conscientious scruples of 
your wife and your child, who has arrived at 
years of discretion and responsibility. Let them 
be Catholic or Protestant, Episcopalian or Con- 
gregationalist. Unfortunate as it may be for 
your domestic interests to have this division in 
your family, intolerance will greatly increase the 
evil. Do not tyrannize over the free spirits of 
your family. He can lay no claim to be the 



THE FAMILY. 103 

friend of civil or religious liberty, who is the 
spiritual oppressor of his own household; who 
resolves that his mind and his religion shall be 
the mind and the religion of one and all; who 
sits at his own fireside, in the papal chair, and 
there rules with the intolerant spirit of the 
church of Rome. He who truly loves religious 
liberty, will love to feel that his family is free; 
and he never will thunder parental anathemas 
against the son or the daughter who exercises 
this inalienable right of every immortal being. 

4. The Christian should make it an object 
of special attention to promote the immedate 
temporal happiness of his family. The man 
who has too much dignity to play with his chil- 
dren; who can look coldly and distantly upon 
their sports in the yard; who takes no interest 
in their wagons and their sleds; who will not 
lend them an encouraging smile, in building a 
rabbit warren, or a dove cote, disgraces the 
name of father. A snow drift must have a 
warmer heart than he. May God preserve chil- 
dren from such fathers. In no way can we so 
surely get the affections of our children, and an 
unbounded influence over their minds, as by 
manifesting a personal interest in their enjoy- 
ments. The fulness of their grateful hearts will 
flow out to those who sympathize in the sports 



104 THE FAMILY. 

adapted to their youthful years. It is an impor- 
tant part of religion, to try to promote happiness 
whenever and wherever we can. Said John 
Newton, * 1 see in this world two heaps, one of 
happiness, and one of misery; now if I can take 
but the smallest bit from one heap, and add to 
the other, I carry a point. If, as I go home, a 
child has dropped a halfpenny, and if, by giving 
it another, I can wipe away its tears, I feel that 
I have done something. I should be glad indeed 
to do greater things, but I will not neglect this/ 
It is a noble sentiment, — worthy of the great 
and good man by whom it was uttered. The 
practice of this sentiment would be a greater 
blessing to the world, than the enforcement of 
any code of laws the human mind ever framed. 
Let the parent act upon this principle in his 
family; let him engage in the evening sport; 
let him plan the morning walk; ret him never 
plead that most miserable of all earthly excuses, 
want of time; let him form such habits, that his 
children shall ever greet him as their best play- 
mate, as their warmest friend. Thus let him 
exemplify the kindly and benevolent spirit of 
Christianity. Let him exhibit that spirit to his 
children, in its real aspect of cheerfulness and 
joy. The few moments each day appropriated 
to this duty, will bring in a rich income of fam- 



THE FAMILY. 105 

ily prosperity and happiness. It will contribute 
more to the enjoyment of life, yes, infinitely 
more, than any accumulation of wealth which 
could have been secured in the same time. 
And when such a father dies, he leaves his chil- 
dren in possession of virtues and sources of en- 
joyment, for the loss of which no money could 
compensate. 

5. Take an interest in their studies. Send 
them into the yard to collect the different varie- 
ties of blades of grass, or into the garden to 
gather specimens of leaves, from the apple, the 
peach, the plum, and the currant; or to the bank 
of the river, or the shore of the ocean, to notice 
the varieties of stones. Thus, while interesting 
their minds in the highest degree, you may ex- 
cite habits of observation, which may be of ines- 
timable value in all future life. 

Tell an interesting story to one, to be repeated 
by him to another. Thus may memory be early 
strengthened, and habits of close attention be 
acquired. By enquiring respecting the studies 
at school, or drawing from a youthful reader a 
narration of the contents of an entertaining 
book, the all important habit of mental applica- 
tion may be confirmed. 

At times reason with them, guarding carefully 
against obscure statements and complicated ar- 



106 



THE FAMILY. 



guments. Thus may the mind be early accus- 
tomed to logical deductions, and the powers of 
reasoning be strengthened. It is generally by 
some accidental occurrence, leading to habits of 
diligent application, that the mind begins to de- 
velope its energies. A taste is thus early ac- 
quired for some pursuit, which results in the 
distinguished cultivation of the mental powers. 
The little brass cannon of Napoleon's childhood 
not improbably formed his infant genius for the 
carnage of Lodi and Austerlitz. 

But I need not longer dwell upon such points 
as these. Let the parent distinctly understand 
the nature of his parental obligations; let his 
heart be warmly interested in promoting the fu- 
ture welfare and the immediate happiness of his 
family, and he will find every hour rich with the 
opportunities for the exercise of these pure affec- 
tions. He will be binding moral influences 
about the hearts of his children, which will 
cling to them through all the temptations and 
solicitudes of life. He will be drawing their 
affections to himself, and getting an influence 
over their minds, which neither time nor space 
can destroy. And when he sits in the arm- 
chair of the old man, or walks in the tottering 
steps of venerable age, he will look with emo- 
tions of happiness, which no language can de- 



THE FAMILY. 



107 



scribe, upon his grateful sons and daughters, 
who encircle him with their love, and who vie 
with each other in the duties of filial affection. 
Who would not be such a father? And is not 
this the path of peace? Is not this the way to 
live and be happy? What does such a man 
want of the bowling alley and the billiard room? 
What charms can wine and cards afford, to lure 
him from these enjoyments of his favored home? 
Can any one imagine that he, by conforming to 
the instructions of God, is making a sacrifice of 
his earthly happiness? that, by forsaking haunts 
of dissipation and scenes of revelry, he is cloud- 
ing life with gloom? No! Godliness has prom- 
ise of the life that now is, as well as of that 
which is to come. Obedience to the law of God 
fills heaven with rapture. Obedience to the 
principles of His government has the same ten- 
dency here on earth. God, who loves to see his 
creatures happy, has given us instructions to 
guide to happiness; and the closer we follow his 
guidance, the more abundant and unfailing will 
be our joy. There never was a more miserable 
mistake — not to say atrocious sin — than to sup- 
pose that wisdom's ways are ways of misery, and 
all her paths, paths of gloom. In every period 
of life, whether that of youth, maturity, or old 
age; in every relation which can here exist, 



] 08 THE FAMILY. 

whether that of children, parents, or citizens; 
in every condition allotted to humanity, whether 
that of poverty, or riches, obscurity or honor, it 
will be found that conformity to the moral gov- 
ernment of God always tends to happiness; while 
want of conformity to that government, ensures 
moral discord; increasing to the despairing cry 
of the dying sinner, and the wailing of the lost. 
Look at this man, who makes his home but a 
boarding house, where he may eat and sleep- 
His wife is merely his house-keeper. His chil- 
dren are necessary evils, to be kept out of the 
way as much as possible. To-day he is at the 
bowling alley. To-morrow he is at the billiard 
room. And the next day he is, till midnight, at 
the whist party. He is a jovial companion, and 
greets his associates with an air of careless 
mirth, as though he never knew a sorrow. But 
in truth, he is a poor pitiable victim of disquie- 
tude and depression. His jokes are forced. His 
smile is unnatural. It is even by constraint 
that he retains the semblance of good nature. 
See him at home — how petulant and irascible! 
The least annoyance is, to his mind, like the 
spark to the powder. His children, while they 
flee from his frown, imbibe his spirit. See him, 
as he rises in the morning, gloomy and cross. 
The poor creature hardly knows the meaning of 



THE FAMILY. 100 

the word enjoyment. This is a man of pleasure! 
He will not obey God's law, because it will dis- 
turb his happiness! Wretched man! He is the 
victim of his own sins. He is serving Satan 
here, and Satan rewards him, as he does all his 
disciples, with the painfully forced semblance of 
joy, but with an harassed spirit, and prospective 
destruction. 

Lord Chesterfield was such a man. He spent 
his whole life in the vain pursuit of pleasure, 
and yet happiness continually eluded his search. 
Listen to his candid confession. 'I have seen 
the silly round of business and pleasure, and 
have done with it all. I have enjoyed all the 
pleasures of the world, and consequently know 
their futility, and do not regret their loss. I 
appraise them at their real value, which, in 
truth, is very low; whereas those, who have not 
experienced, always overrate them. They only 
see the gay outside, and are dazzled with the 
glare. But I have been behind the scenes. 
When I reflect upon what I have seen, what I 
have heard, and what I have done, I cannot per- 
suade myself that all the frivolous hurry and 
bustle of the world had any reality. Shall I tell 
you, that I bear this melancholy situation with 
the meritorious resignation and constancy which 
most men boast? No sir! I really cannot help 
10 



110 THE FAMILY. 

it. I bear it, because I must bear it, whether I 
will or no. I think of nothing but killing time 
the best way I can.' What a comment is this 
confession upon what is generally called worldly 
pleasure. 

The dying scene of such a man, is a fearful 
commentary upon his misspent life. He lies upon 
his dying bed, annoying all around him by his 
irritability. The retrospect of the past affords 
him no pleasure, and the future is filled with 
fearful forebodings. And there he lies, brood- 
ing in sullen silence upon the present pains, 
with no consolations in respect to the future. 
He dies and is forgotten. But oh! this is not 
the end of his history. Judgment is before him, 
and eternal retribution succeeds. The imagin- 
ation shrinks from following him into those 
regions. 



THE CHURCH. Ill 



CHAPTER IV, 



THE CHURCH. 



There are several packet ships plying be- 
tween New- York and Liverpool. If I am about 
to cross the Atlantic, I select that ship which 
appears to me to be most commodious and safe. 
Other persons, with the same object in view, 
select a different ship. Perhaps they think it 
better adapted to encounter storms, or they wish 
to go in company with a friend who has already 
secured his passage. We all embark, on the 
voyage, in our different ships. God prospers us 
all. He sends his wind to waft us across the 
ocean, and one after another we arrive at our 
destined port. One ship has furnished rather 
the best accommodations and the most pleasant 
society. Another has proved the better sailor. 
A third has rode through every storm, without 
shipping a sea. But all are good ships. All 
arrive in safety; and the little inconveniences of 
the voyage are soon forgotten. 



112 THE CHURCH. 

Thus do several individuals, who have become 
the disciples of Jesus Christ, set out on their 
voyage to Heaven. Their tastes, their friend- 
ships, their means of information respecting the 
different organizations into which the Christian 
Church is divided, are different. One has had 
his attention called to the subject of religion 
while listening to the appeals of an Episcopal 
clergyman; and consequently his earliest and his 
warmest religious associations cluster around 
the Episcopal church. Another is surrounded 
with Baptist friends, who have plead with him 
and prayed for him till, by the blessing of God, 
he has been led to the believer's hope. And in 
their Christian sympathies he finds support and 
encouragement, such as he can find no where 
else. Another would have gone down to the 
grave, strong in his sins, were it not that the 
earnest accents of a Methodist preacher startled 
his slumbering conscience. He was led to the 
class meeting, and, while listening to fervent 
prayer, the Holy Spirit renewed his heart. 
Such a man will surely embark in the Methodist 
ship, to meet the storms and adverse winds of 
life. Another has been reared in the bosom of 
a Congregational family. He has, from early life, 
listened to the prayers of parents, whose stable 
and cheerful piety has ever been soothing his 



THE CHURCH. 113 

passions and appealing to his conscience. He 
has been led by them, by the hand, to the 
church, and has listened year after year to the 
calm instructions of their revered pastor. And 
when, by the grace of God, he becomes a child 
of Jesus, he thinks there is no ship in the world 
like the good old Congregationalist. Another, 
who has few early prepossessions to influence 
his choice; who has no youthful religious asso- 
ciations entwining around the fibres of his heart, 
embarks on board any ship that happens to be 
most convenient. After sailing a few days, a 
storm arises, or fogs and adverse winds are en- 
countered. He thinks it the fault of the ship, 
and begins to murmur. As soon as he sees 
another sail looming in the distance, he will take 
no rest till he is put on board, bag and baggage. 
But before many days pass away, some new in- 
conveniences induce him to try another ship that 
heaves in sight. And it has generally been ob- 
served that such a man never leaves a ship with- 
out throwing back a few vollies of peevishness 
and petulance as he goes down her side. In 
this way perhaps he changes several times before 
the voyage of life terminates. But at last he 
arrives safely in the harbor, and probably ex- 
presses his regret, to his early companions, that 
he did not continue the voyage with them. 
10* 



114 THE CHURCH. 

Such an one should not be severely censured. 
His instability of mind is, perhaps, as much his 
misfortune as his fault. 

Now and then a few speculators will rig out a 
raft with graceful awning, and advertise to carry 
passengers upon terms far more easy and accom- 
modating than any of the regular packets. If 
any one suggests a fear that it will be hard to 
weather a gale of wind on the raft, they will as- 
sure him that a kind God will not allow a storm 
to arise and endanger the comfort of his helpless 
children, but will most certainly send them 
cloudless skies and favoring winds. In this way 
not a few of the simple and unwary are induced 
to embark on board the raft. And unless they 
happen to be picked up on the way by some of 
the regular packets, they must surely go to the 
bottom. Beware of the raft. ' There are storms 
on life's dark waters. 5 

We all have our preferences. I have mine. 
The ship I have embarked in, I like exceed- 
ingly. I like the hull and the rigging, the pas- 
sengers and the crew. But when I see another 
ship, with full sail and favoring breeze, career- 
ing over the same sea, and bound to the same 
port, I for one feel like giving her three cheers, 
and bidding her God speed. If a piratic craft 
looms in sight, I feel no disposition to stop and 



THE CHURCH. 115 

fight her, but to crowd on every stitch of can- 
vass, and press on our way. 

Bat to leave this figure; become a sincere 
disciple of Jesus Christ; openly profess your at- 
tachment to him, and consecrate your life to his 
service, and it is comparatively of little conse- 
quence with what denomination of Christians 
you may unite. I say of little consequence — I 
do not say of none. If the heart be right with 
God, we shall conscientiously strive in all things 
to conform to his will. And when this consci- 
entious conformity results in different ecclesias- 
tical organizations, holding the same essential 
truths, and aiming at the same general object, 
the frown of God is not to be anticipated. In- 
deed, as far as we can judge, God approves of 
all such organizations, for he sends his special 
Spirit to guide and prosper all. 

1. It is the duty of every one, not only to re- 
pent of sin, and trust in the Savior, but also to 
make a public profession of his faith in Christ. 
God instituted the Christian church that his 
friends on earth might be associated together, 
and their energies combined. Even if we could 
see no advantages resulting from this arrange- 
ment, the fact alone, that God has instituted a 
church, is abundantly sufficient to condemn any 
man who does not sustain that institution by 



116 THE CHURCH. 

union with it. Every man, who is not a mem- 
ber of the church of Christ, is practically oppos- 
ing an institution which God has established at 
an infinite expense, and which he cherishes with 
the most peculiar care. Is it asked, shall a man 
unite with the church, if he is not a Christian? 
Certainly not! But it is the duty of every man 
to be a Christian, and to profess his Christian 
faith. 

God has not only established the church, but 
he has distinctly enjoined the duty of a public 
profession of religion. ' Whosoever therefore 
shall confess me before men, him will I confess 
also, before my Father which is in heaven. 
But whosoever shall deny me before men, him 
will I also deny before my Father which is in 
heaven.' The union of Christians in churches 
is one of the most conspicuous objects in the 
New Testament. The public profession of pen- 
itence and faith in Jesus, was the imperative and 
the essential duty of all who became in heart his 
disciples. And he who now neglects this duty, 
finds himself in conflict with the whole spirit of 
the Bible. 

This organization of the friends of the Re- 
deemer is essential to meet the wants of the 
world. In moral as in physical conflicts, there 
must be the strength of combined action. Had 



THE CHURCH. 117 

not the early Christians devoted themselves to 
the establishment of churches, the knowledge 
of the Redeemer had probably long ere this per- 
ished from the earth. The Sabbath, the Gospel 
ministry, the administration of the sacrament of 
the Lord's Sapper, all cluster around the Chris- 
tian church. While the church lives, they live, 
and their influence must be felt. When the 
church dies, they expire, and the light of the 
world is extinguished. There is nothing which 
can be a substitute for the Christian church. 
No ardor of individual zeal, and energy of indi- 
vidual action, can, for one moment, stem the 
current of popular sin. The influence of the 
church is felt far and wide upon society, because 
it is a powerful association of the moral integ- 
rity and sanctified talent of the world, acting 
with much of the decision of a single mind. 
Guided by its adorable head, the great Captain 
of our salvation, its various branches, like the 
infantry, the cavalry, and the artillery of a well 
disciplined army, are acting in concert for the 
accomplishment of one object. You may join 
either division of this army which you please; — 
the artillery, as it moves in solid phalanx and 
with heavy armor; — the infantry, as with firm 
and unbroken ranks it repulses assault, and 
presses forward, holding every inch of ground it 



118 THE CHURCH. 

gains, — or the cavalry, skirting the field, and 
repulsing in incessant skirmishes the advanced 
guard of the foe. But if you do not openly en- 
list under this holy banner; if you are not an 
avowed soldier in the sacramental host of God's 
elect, the influence of your example is to frus- 
trate the benevolent designs of God. True, the 
victory will be achieved without you, but you 
will have no share in the triumph. As you have 
shrunk from the conflict, the Savior cannot 
recognise you as his. 

Union with the church is essential to secure 
peace of mind. No one can have continued re- 
ligious enjoyment while standing aloof from a 
duty so plain and imperative as this. It is not 
consistent with God's established principles of 
government, that mental peace should be found 
in union with dissent from his will. And uni- 
versal experience shews, that disquietude reigns 
in the heart of him who does not, in this respect, 
acquiesce in the decisions of God. He can do 
nothing to atone for this neglect. The wealth 
of the Indies, cast into the treasury of the Lord, 
will not purchase peace. God has conjoined 
peace and duty. And, till his government shall 
fail, they cannot separately exist. Reader! can 
you be happy when God is your enemy? Or, if 
you think you have become reconciled to God, 



THE CHURCH. 119 

can you be happy when living in known disobe- 
dience to his wishes? Why is it that your mind 
has so long been clouded; that despondency has 
for so many years reigned over you? It is simply 
because God, in his wisdom, has so framed the 
mind, that disobedience secures dissatisfaction. 
And be assured, that so long as you shrink from 
an open avowal of your faith in Jesus, you must 
continue as you now are, a stranger to that hope 
which brings peace and joy to the soul. 

Every man's conscience tells him, that he not 
only ought not to conceal his principles, but that 
he ought to exhibit them and enforce them to 
the utmost of his power. The light of truth may 
as well be extinguished as hid. Conscience will 
not cease to upbraid, while you do violence to 
its instructions. If you would be happy then, 
resolve whom you will serve, and act accord- 
ingly. Do not be afraid. Do not hesitate. 
Cast off that ignoble fear which restrains from 
duty. Determine that you will, through the 
grace of God, in view of every danger and of 
every reverse, throw yourself, unreservedly, into 
that glorious cause, which demands the energies 
of every hand, and the affections of every heart. 
Then will your name be enrolled in the list of 
God's soldiers. The harps of heaven will vi- 



120 THE CHURCH. 

brate with the richest strains of welcome, and 
your troubled heart will be at peace. 

Do you say, ' I am not a Christian, and there- 
fore it is not proper for me to join the church?' 
Surely this is a most fearful aggravation, and 
not an extenuation of your disobedience. It is 
your duty immediately to become the friend of 
God, and publicly to profess it. It is your duty 
to repent of sin, and openly to say so. God 
demands it. Conscience demands it. And as long 
as you contend against God and against con- 
science, so long you must endure his frown, 
either mingled with mercy, as here on earth, or 
darkened to unmingled displeasure in eternity. 

Do you say, ' I hope that I am a Christian, 
but yet I fear that I may be deceived, and I 
tremble at the thought of eating and drinking 
unworthily. ' He who comes to the table of the 
Lord for ambitious purposes, or with spiritual 
pride, or in hypocritical pretence, may well 
tremble. But he who comes to the sacramental 
table with a humble heart, with a sincere desire 
to obtain spiritual strength, to surmount tempta- 
tion and sin, comes in that frame of mind which 
the Bible enjoins. Sometimes we meet with a 
person who prides himself upon his fancied hu- 
mility. He thinks that he he has so much of 
that Christian virtue, such views of his own un- 



THE CHURCH. 121 

worthiness, that he cannot obey God's com- 
mands. And thus does he practically say to 
every professor of religion, ' It is your want of 
humility that induces you to obey God. If you 
were as humble in spirit as I am, you would do 
as I do.' What a monstrous case of moral de- 
formity! Too humble in spirit to obey God! 
And yet these cases are not rare. Every min- 
ister encounters this spirit, as he passes the 
rounds of his parish. 

There is, in truth, no occasion for perplexity 
here. It is the duty of us all to choose God as 
our friend ; to accept Christ as our Savior ; to 
look to the Holy Spirit as our guide. It is our 
duty publicly to acknowledge this our choice, 
and to take upon ourselves all the responsibilities 
resulting from this profession. If we entertain 
fears respecting our spiritual condition, we 
should be incited by them to new diligence in 
every duty of heart and of life. Instead of 
neglecting any exercise which religion enjoins, 
we should double the frequency and the fervor 
of our prayers, and fulfil with more scrupulous 
fidelity all the claims of religion. The Chris- 
tian, in the slough of despond, if he stops, will 
sink. His only safety lies in looking to God for 
help, and pressing on his way. 
11 



122 THE CHURCH. 

There are many persons who wish that there 
were some silent and unseen path, through which 
they might secretly creep to heaven. They dare 
not march through the embattled hosts of an op- 
posing world. They desire the rewards of the 
victory, but shrink from the toil of the conflict. 
In any of the other relations of life, they would 
be ashamed of this meanness. But here they 
will try to devise some plan by which they can 
secure God's favor, without having it known by 
the world that they are his friends. Such men 
must ever carry in their countenances the evi- 
dence of the disquietude and conscious igno- 
miny which reign in their hearts. He, who is 
not sufficiently ingenuous to acknowledge that 
he has been in the wrong, when conscious of it, 
is incapable of happiness. And he who has not 
sufficient magnanimity openly to espouse the 
cause which his understanding is convinced is 
the one of truth and happiness, must expect the 
constant reproaches of his own heart. 

2. Having made a profession of religion, 
your duties as a church member are of eminent 
importance. Your covenant vows with God are 
solemn and eternally binding. You cannot en- 
ter into obligations of business, which shall have 
equal claims. The Christian, who so enlarges 
his business, and so multiplies his earthly cares, 



THE CHURCH. 123 

that he cannot find time to be an active, zeal- 
ous, vigilant church member, has violated his 
promises, dishonored his profession, apostatized 
from his principles, and is garnering remorse 
and shame. 

Every Christian should make it a matter of 
conscience to attend the meetings of the church 
for conference and prayer. ' Forsake not the 
assembling of yourselves together, 5 is a divine 
injunction. How can a church be prospered, if 
its members regard the ordinary concerns of 
life as of more importance than the claims of the 
church. The fact itself shews that religion, in 
all its relations, occupies a very subordinate po- 
sition in their minds. Visit such a church, and 
you will find it powerless and spiritually dead. 
It puts forth no influences to stimulate the con- 
sciences of a guilty world. Nay! it inflicts a 
positive injury upon the moral sense of the com- 
munity. It enfeebles the influence of the Bible,, 
and disarms the pulpit of its persuasive power. 
The church should be the embodying of the re- 
ligion of the Bible, — the incarnation of its spirit. 
And when a thoughtless community looks upon 
a church, worldly and regardless of the peculiar 
obligations which religion imposes, it is a prac- 
tical commentary which entirely explains away 
the meaning of the text. How can a minister, 



124 THE CHURCH. 

under such circumstances, preach with any 
hope of success. As he endeavors to exhibit 
the spirituality and the elevated claims of the 
divine law, and to press those claims home to 
the consciences of his hearers, the attention of 
all whom he addresses is directed to the dead 
church. And though it is indeed illogical to 
judge of the commpnds of God by the miscon- 
duct of his creatures, still it is true that the ex- 
ample of Christians greatly weakens or increases 
the influence of the precepts of Christ. An in- 
dividual has, perhaps, in such a community, 
been led, by the providences of God, to think 
seriously of his religious duties. An evening 
meeting is appointed. With a heart subdued 
and tender, and l almost persuaded ' to submit to 
Christ, he goes, perhaps for the first time, to 
the vestry. There every thing looks cold and 
cheerless. The minister is injris chair. Dea. 
A. is in one seat, Mrs. B. in another, Mr. C. 
in another, and two or three children near the 
door. A hymn is read — 

Religion is the chief concern 
Of mortals here below; 
May I its great importance learn, 
Its sovereign virtue know. 

More needful this than glittering wealth, 
Or aught the world bestows; 
Not reputation, food, or health, 
Can give us such repose. 



THE CHURCH. 125 

The minister waits a few moments, but there 
is a dead silence; there is no one present who 
can sing. He reads a portion of scripture, and 
then offers prayer. But his heart is chilled and 
discouraged, and despondency marks his sup- 
plications. He rises to address his audience, 
but his energies are palsied, and the words 
which come slowly to his lips, are echoed back 
by the empty walls. The person, who entered 
this meeting impressed with a sense of the im- 
portance of religion, begins to think that he was 
needlessly alarmed. He asks himself, ' Where 
are the members of this church? Where is Mr, 
D? He is in his factory. Where is Mr. E? 
He is in his shop. Where is Mr. F? He is 
hoeing in his garden/ ' Well/ he says, ' if reli- 
gion is not worth the attention of professing 
Christians, it is not worth my attention/ His 
religious impressions vanish, and he goes home, 
ashamed of his solicitude, and farther than ever 
from the kingdom of God. Now I am sorry to 
say that this is not a caricature. True, it is an 
extreme case, yet such cases do occur, and very 
many nearly approximating to it. It would seem 
that such meetings are enough to chill an angel's 
devotional ardor. 

But how different is the moral influence of a 

church in which all the members are faithful* 
11* 



126 THE CHURCH. 

Go into the crowded vestry, and listen to the 
evening hymn . 

Blest be the tie that binds 
Our hearts in Christian love; 
The fellowship of kindred minds 
Is like to that above. 

Before our Father's throne 

We pour our ardent prayers; 

Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one, 

Our comfort and our cares. 

The most thoughtless sinner, whom curiosity has 
lured to this house of prayer, can hardly witness 
the scene unmoved. And as the notes of devo- 
tion are borne upon the evening breeze to the 
adjoining dwellings, or to the ear of the passer- 
by, they carry to the heart reproof and warning. 
When the minister rises to speak, and looks 
upon the crowded audience before him, as he 
sees around him many yet in their sins, and feels 
sustained by the presence and the prayers of his 
church, his spirit is stirred within him, and from 
the fulness of his heart he pours out instruction 
and warning and entreaty. How happy is a 
minister, whose instructions are enforced by the 
example of such a church ! How highly favored 
is the community in which such a church is 
pouring out daily and hourly its calm radiance! 
Under such circumstances religion must prosper; 



THE CHURCH. 127 

the preaching of the cross must be effectual. 
Here experience confirms what reason teaches, 
for such a church is always found making in- 
roads to the territories of sin, and gaining spirit- 
ual conquests. 

Each individual Christian should therefore 
form his arrangements in reference to these du- 
ties. In his weekly and his yearly plans, he 
should appropriate the proper time to the stated 
meetings of the church, and should allow noth- 
ing to interfere with that appropriation but 
strong necessity. The simple intention of being 
faithful as a Christian, will not secure fidelity. 
We must have system. We must form plans of 
life, assigning to each duty its appropriate time, 
or life will glide unprofitably away. Does a 
friend call in to pass the evening? Mention 
frankly to him that you have an engagement, 
which renders it necessary for you to withdraw. 
In short, regard your duties as a church mem- 
ber as among the most important of the duties 
of life. Act accordingly. You then have peace. 
You are conscious of consistency. You are 
cheered with the daily increasing evidence that 
you are useful in the service of God. Blessed 
with the affection of Christians, and the respect 
of the world, you go on your way rejoicing. 
There are many such Christians. May God 



128 THE CHURCH. 

grant that you, reader, may add to the num- 
ber. 

Occasionally an individual is found who al- 
lows domestic duties to suffer, by attending reli- 
gious meetings. We have known some parents, 
of warm piety, who would, evening after eve- 
ning, be absent from home, leaving their chil- 
dren almost without restraint. There is a ten- 
dency in some minds to multiply these seasons 
of religious enjoyment, so as seriously to inter- 
fere with other and most important obligations. 
It is not unfrequently the case that a mother 
neglects her domestic duties, that she may enjoy 
some of the external privileges of religion. She, 
in some degree, sacrifices the welfare of her 
husband and her children, not to discharge a 
Christian duty, but to enjoy a religious privilege; 
for that which is a duty under some circumstan- 
ces, ceases to be such under others. Your hus- 
band is not interested in religion. It has even 
been a great trial to his feelings, to have you 
unite with the church. He has, however, con- 
sented to have you make a profession of religion, 
and is perfectly willing that you should regularly 
attend church upon the Sabbath. But he does 
not wish to attend evening meetings himself, 
and it is very unpleasant to him to have you go 
and leave him at home alone. He comes home 



THE CHURCH. 129 

some evening, later than usual, weary with care, 
and perhaps secretly dejected with the thought 
that your feelings are so different from his. He 
rinds his supper upon the table, and that you 
have gone to an evening meeting. He sits down 
at his solitary meal disconsolate, and saying to 
himself, ' Wife has found new friends, and home 
has lost all its charms for me. 7 Soon he hears 
one of the children, up stairs, crying. There is 
no mother to hear its voice, and he goes up to 
soothe the little one, feeling all the while that 
the piety of the mother causes the children to be 
neglected. The child is soon hushed and falls 
asleep. The father again enters his deserted 
parlor, and finding no inducement to remain at 
home, sallies out to seek a refuge from his silent 
sorrows. These are the natural feelings of every 
heart under such circumstances. He probably 
will thus be lured to scenes of gaiety, and from 
thence to haunts of profligacy. He loses his at- 
tachment for his family and his home, and moves 
with rapid steps in the road to ruin. 

Now if it were an enjoined duty for the Chris- 
tian mother to attend the evening prayer meet- 
ing, she ought to do so, at whatever expense of 
her earthly happiness. The laws of God, as re- 
vealed in his word, or by an enlightened con- 
science, must be obeyed at every hazard. But 



130 THE CHURCH. 

it is not a duty enjoined, irrespective of circum- 
stances. And though no one can unnecessarily 
deprive himself of the privilege of meeting with 
Christian friends for prayer and praise, without 
shewing a criminal want of interest in spiritual 
things, yet, in the case above supposed, it is the 
duty of the wife and mother cheerfully to deprive 
herself of this privilege, in regard to the welfare 
of her family. It is true that the objections 
which are alleged against an evening meeting 
to serve God, are frivolous in the extreme. It is 
difficult for the Christian wife to conceive why 
it should be less objectionable for her to remain 
until eleven or twelve o'clock at night at the 
theatre or the ball room, than to pass an hour 
and a half in the soothing exercises of devotion. 
When she returns from the evening meeting, at 
the ringing of the nine o'clock bell, with her 
spirit tranquillized by religious reflections, and 
retires at an early hour for refreshing sleep, she 
cannot understand why she is not making better 
preparation for the duties of the ensuing day, 
than when she returns at midnight, feverish and 
exhausted, from some scene of fashionable rev- 
elry, to pass a sleepless night, and to arise late 
in the morning with an aching head and a sad- 
dened heart. Still, as long as her husband does 
feel in this way, — and he probably will feel so 



THE CHURCH. 131 

till he becomes himself a Christian, — she ought 
to do every thing which she can do, consistently 
with Christian principle, to gratify his desires. 
She should shew him that religion makes her 
more scrupulously attentive to every thing which 
can cheer domestic life. They who crowd the 
halls of mirthful pleasure, and who know noth- 
ing of the joys of devotion, cannot understand 
how grateful the emotions cherished in the 
heart, as, in the silence of the evening, Chris- 
tians meet to prepare for their anticipated 
heaven. But, in the present case, this pleasure 
ought at once to be relinquished. And if your 
husband sees that you do relinquish it to gratify 
him, he will be far more likely to give his will- 
ing consent to have you go, and to accompany 
you himself. Again we repeat that duty ought 
never to be sacrificed. And, under ordinary 
circumstances, it is absolutely the duty of the 
Christian, as well as his invaluable privilege, to 
attend the meetings of the church for conference 
and prayer. It is a duty, because it promotes 
the individual's spiritual improvement, strength- 
ens the influence of the church, and leads the 
thoughtless to regard religion as a subject de- 
serving attention. 

But, under the circumstances now supposed, 
it ceases to be a duty, and becomes only a privi- 



132 



THE CHURCH. 



lege, which God in his wisdom sees fit to deny 
you. We say, it ceases to be a duty, because 
this is one of those cases in which there is no 
positive command to guide us, and where we 
must decide in reference to apparent conse- 
quences. There is no dereliction of principle 
involved in such a concession as this. If your 
husband invites you to take a ride, for pleasure, 
upon the Sabbath, you must refuse, at all events, 
for you feel that it is an open violation of God's 
command. If he urges you to go with him to 
the theatre, where you must listen to indelicate 
innuendoes, and gaze upon scenes which no 
modest woman loves to see, you feel conscien- 
tiously constrained to decline; for you cannot, 
consistently with your Christian profession, 
countenance that which excites to sin. Any 
compromise of principle will be fatal to your 
Christian character and Christian influence. 

But if he asks you to pass the hours with him 
in the bosom of your family, by so doing you vi- 
olate no moral precept, though it might be a 
source of the richest enjoyment to you, if you 
could go together to the evening prayer. It is 
not my object here to lay down a general prin- 
ciple to which there can be no exception, or to 
apply the decision in this case to other cases 
which may seem to be parallel. In almost every 



THE CHURCH. 133 

church, there are many persons situated as we 
have above described; and consequently this one 
individual case is worthy of attention. There 
are many Christians who sincerely desire coun- 
sel upon such subjects, and by them, at least, 
these suggestions will be kindly received. 

Here is a lady, who is a professor of religion. 
Her husband is not. He is a man whose integ- 
rity secures to him universal respect, and whose 
kind feelings will not allow him for a moment to 
interfere with the religious liberty of his wife. 
He is perfectly willing to go with his wife and 
his children to meeting upon the Sabbath, and 
manifests, at times, no inconsiderable interest 
himself upon the subject of religion. He how- 
ever feels that shame, which every unrenewed 
heart experiences, in having it known that he is 
thinking of his sins and of his Savior. Occa- 
sionally he feels as though he were alone in the 
world. His wife can no longer walk with him 
in thoughtlessness and gaiety and neglect of 
God. Occurrences, slightly discordant to his 
feelings, are in consequence continually arising. 
His wife should therefore pray, daily and hourly, 
that in every thing, in which principle is not in- 
volved, she may conform to his feelings. She 
should study, with the utmost solicitude, to sur- 
round his home with every joy. She should 
12 



134 THE CHURCH. 

make a willing sacrifice of every personal grati- 
fication to promote his happiness. Let him see 
that much as you would enjoy going to the eve- 
ning meeting, and highly as you would be grati- 
fied if he would accompany you, still, for his 
sake, you are ever willing and love to stay at 
home. Let him see that, strongly as you are 
attached to Christian friends, there is no society 
preferable to his. If you thus feel and act, 
while you shew that you cannot, in any thing, 
act contrary to your principles of right and 
wrong, you will secure your husband's esteem, 
and touch his heart with a sense of the loveli- 
ness of religion. 

And here I cannot refrain from saying, be 
sincere and honest and open-hearted in every 
thing that you do. Let your husband feel that 
he has your entire confidence. Do not make a 
visit or go to a meeting of which you are unwill- 
ing that he should be informed. Do not con- 
tribute a dollar to a benevolent object, which 
you wish to conceal from him. God does not 
need that deception and stratagem should be in- 
troduced to his service. Many have probably 
erred in this respect, with the very best of in- 
tentions. Be open-hearted as the day. It is 
the only course of safety, of peace, and of piety. 
We do not say that an imaginary or a real case 



THE CHURCH. 135 

may not be presented, in which an oppressive 
husband may exercise such acts of tyranny, that 
the wife may be compelled to withhold all confi- 
dence from him, and to act for herself. But 
such cases are rare indeed. In all ordinary 
cases, and in almost all extraordinary cases, 
entire sincerity and frankness will be most in 
accordance with religion and policy. If you do 
any thing, which you are afraid will be found 
out, you cease to be innocent. 

Every church member who can, consistently 
iviih other duties, should attend the meetings of 
the church. He should make it a point of con- 
science. If you neglect these duties from indif- 
ference, or from allowing yourself to become too 
much involved in worldly cares, you cannot be 
guiltless in the sight of God. And beware how 
you cherish needless excuses. You may deceive 
yourself, but you cannot elude the scrutiny of 
God. 

3. Every Christian should feel the impor- 
tance of promoting friendly intercourse among 
the members of the Church. The affection 
which existed between the early Christians at- 
tracted the attention and the admiration of even 
heathen opponents. The confidence which the 
world saw that they reposed in one another, 
not only did much to repel contempt and to dis- 



136 THE CHURCH. 

arm prejudice, but its persuasive, its alluring 
influence was powerful. And so it must ever 
be. A band of Christians, acquainted with one 
another, sympathizing with one another, and 
firmly united in mutual affection, is invincible. 
And satan, conscious that he can bring no force 
to arrest the triumphs of such a band, devotes 
all his resources to promote its disunion. When 
a church is disunited it is shorn of its strength. 
Religion will surely decline. It is probable 
that satan has no more efficient agents in the 
world, than contending churches. There it is 
that his banner waves proudly, and thousands 
congregate around it with triumph and shouts. 
With an united church, religion will surely 
prosper. Dismay is sent at once into the ene- 
mies ranks, and his hosts are scattered. How 
many examples could we bring forward to illus- 
trate both of these truths! 

We could lead you to the village where 
christians live in harmony; where no one pas- 
ses his brother in the street without the smile 
of recognition. We could lead you to the 
church meeting, and exhibit to you the cordial 
greeting with which every brother and sister 
is received. We could lead you from house to 
house, that you might listen to the prayers of- 
fered, by each, for all. And then, we could 



THE CHURCH. 137 

open to you the records of the church, and read 
to you the history of its healthy prosperity. We 
could then lead you to the store and the shop 
and the farm, and show you that the influence 
of the church is deeply felt, in putting the cav- 
iling infidel to shame, and in impressing upon 
the minds of the young and of the old, a sense 
of the reality and the importance and the love- 
liness of religion. We might then lead you to 
the inquiry meeting, and shew you a large 
number with penitent hearts and tearful eyes, 
inquiring the way to Heaven. 

Such we believe to be, almost invariably, the 
condition of any community, in which the 
church is harmonious and pursues its steadfast 
course of practically exhibiting the principles of 
the gospel. The piety of such church members, 
will be continually on the increase. To use 
the beautiful illustration of scripture, their path 
will be like that of the ascending sun. It grows 
brighter and brighter as it rises above the hori- 
son; it shines in great and still greater splendor 
as it approaches the zenith; till at last, in all 
the glory of its meridian altitude, it pours forth 
its beams in the wide spread effulgence of mid- 
day. The few faint tints that at first dimly 
interrupt the darkness of the morning, thus 
progress by constant and uninterrupted advan- 
*12 



138 THE CHURCH. 

ces to the perfect splendor of the noonday sun. 
So it is with true religion. And such chris- 
tians, will ever exhibit this calm and steady in- 
crease of piety in the heart. Their religion 
will not be like the meteors glare, that flashes 
for a moment in the midnight sky and all again 
is dark; it will not be like the lightning playing 
for a moment upon the bosom of the cloud, and 
all again is blackness; it will not be like the 
tumultuous eruption of volcanic fire, appalling 
the beholder by its unexpected appearance and 
its terrific power; — but it will be a serene and 
unwavering and increasing ardor, a devotedness 
which grows with one's years, and which is 
strengthened as it is called into exercise. 

And surely this is the kind of piety which 
the Bible enjoins. We are not to indulge in 
paroxysms of religious interest; to have period- 
ical seasons of devotedness and declension, but 
at all times to be pressing forward in God's ser- 
vice with a zeal which never shall be weary, 
with a perseverance that never shall be inter- 
rupted. The religion of the Bible is not a re- 
ligion of fits and starts — spasmodic movements 
of excited feelings — paroxysms of intense emo- 
tion succeeded by weeks and months of langor 
and declension, but a constant diligence in the 
Christian life, controlling our thoughts and 



THE CHURCH. 139 

feelings and actions every day and every hour 
while we live. 

What more humiliating spectacle can earth 
exhibit, than a band, of the professed disciples of 
Jesus, disunited and contending. And yet how 
many such spectacles are witnessed. Not a 
few churches expend all their energies, in con- 
tending with one another. Unless there is a 
constant endeavor, among all the members of 
the church, to promote harmony and intimacy, 
it will be difficult long to retain concord. How 
many questions of agitating interest are now 
before the churches! How deeply is the mind 
of the christian community excited, by the all 
engrossing topics now crowded upon its atten- 
tion! And how different are the modes ap- 
proved by conscientious men, for accomplishing 
results which all intensely desire! If there is 
not, in a church, that spirit of conciliation and 
mutual confidence, which intimate acquaint- 
ance alone can give, there is daily danger that 
the flame of contention will blaze from its midst. 
And when such a fire is once kindled who can 
predict its ravages! It generally burns with in- 
creasing fury till it exhausts itself. Every 
effort to extinguish seems but to add to the ex- 
tent and the calamitousnessof the conflagration. 



140 THE CHURCH. 

Often have we seen a church upon the very 
verge of this ruin, and saved by that spirit of 
forbearance and confidence, which intimate 
acquaintance had produced, and which led 
them to sacrifice their differences upon the altar 
of peace. Every church must be continually 
exposed to these dangers. Occasions of excite- 
ment are hourly presenting themselves. How 
far shall the church identify itself with the ex- 
isting societies for assailing particular evils? 
What novelties shall be encouraged to arouse 
the attention of the slumbering sinner? And 
how shall this case of discipline be disposed of, 
to which the anxious and excited attention of 
the whole church is directed. Bring together 
a number of strangers to decide upon these 
questions, each one having his own independent 
thoughts and favorite views, and all conscien- 
tiously inflexible in advocating that which they 
think right, and how hopeless is a harmonious 
result. Look now at some of the churches of 
our cities, which have thus been rent and dis- 
tracted for years. In the long strife, many of their 
members have lost almost every thing that is 
lovely and of good report. The state of heart 
which the apostle would have them cherish in the 
injunction, "be ye kindly affectioned, one to an- 
other in brotherly love," has all disappeared. 



THE CHURCH. 141 

Their moral feelings are like the physical fea- 
tures of the weather beaten sailor, who has been 
for years contending with tempests and mid- 
night storms. His hard features can scarcely 
be relaxed by a smile, and his eye is a stranger 
to any moisture but that which comes from the 
driving rain or the melting snow. Oh it is sad 
to look upon such perverted exhibitions of Chris- 
tianity. And yet almost every reader will not 
only call to mind such individuals but such 
churches. The christian character, which is 
formed in the element of strife, is one that does 
not adorn religion, and probably repels more 
from the Savior, than it can, by any efforts, be 
the instrument of converting. 

How important therefore is it that every 
christian should do all in his power to preserve 
the unity of the church. This can only be done 
by cultivating social and friendly feelings. The 
members of the church should become acquaint- 
ed with one another. There should be the 
mutual smile of recognition as they pass in the 
streets. There should be the kind greeting 
when they meet in the vestry. And in the hour 
of sickness or affliction, there should be that 
manifestation of sympathy, which calls into ex- 
ercise every affectionate feeling of the heart. 
The church should be as a well regulated and 



142 THE CHURCH. 

affectionate household, where indeed there are 
diversities of employment and of rank, but 
where confidence and harmony and attachment 
prevail. The lady of the household, looks with 
interest upon those employed in the family in 
humble capacities. She sympathises with them 
in their sorrows, and visits their bedside in 
sickness. The gentleman goes to the field, and 
speaks kindly to those who serve him there. 
With the distinct recognition of that diversity of 
rank which, God, in His wisdom, has ordained, 
there is cordial friendship and unity of heart. 

There must ever be different ranks in soci- 
ety. It is so even in Heaven. One star differ- 
eth from another star in glory. There are 
cherubim and seraphim, angels and archangels. 
It must ever continue to be so here on earth. 
They, who are of similar habits and similar 
pursuits in life, will naturally form intimacies, 
and associate together. They, who have been 
led to intellectual cultivation almost exclusively; 
whose days and nights are passed in study, will 
of course seek their friends among those of sim- 
ilar tastes. They are incapacitated from deriv- 
ing much pleasure from social intercourse with 
those whose habits of life and trains of thought 
are dissimilar. The rich man, who, from in- 
fancy, has been nurtured in the lap of wealth, 



THE CHURCH. 143 

who is accustomed to spacious apartments, and 
rich furniture, and all the artificial refinements 
which usually accompany such a condition, will 
not go to the humble dwelling of the poor man 
to find his friend. God in His wise Providence, 
has placed him in a different sphere, surround- 
ed him with different associations; and it is 
here, in his native element, that he must find 
his companions and his friends. The day la- 
borer, in his humble yet comfortable dwelling, 
with unpolished person and uncultivated mind, 
but contented heart, can find no real enjoyment 
in the literary circle that assembles in the libra- 
ry of the student. He has no desire to meet 
the rich man's guests, as, with the grace and 
ease which early habit gives, they move through 
splendid halls and lounge on sofas and otto- 
mans. It is at the fireside of his own neighbor 
and equal, he loves to pass the social evening. 
There he feels at home. He is in the region of 
his own habits and his own thoughts. And 
there it is that he wishes his sons and his daugh- 
ters to form connections for life. The distribu- 
tion of enjoyment is far more equal than is gen- 
erally supposed. But it seems utterly impossi- 
ble that there should ever be an equalization of 
rank and condition. Let each then cultivate a 
happy and contented spirit, and feel and mani- 



144 THE CHURCH. 

fest kindness, towards those above and below 
him. This is the spirit of the gospel. 

It is as offensive to God to look up with envy, 
as it is to look down with scorn. We must all 
learn in whatsoever state we are, therewith to 
be content. As well may the bird complain 
that it can not gambol with the dolphin in the 
depths of the ocean, or the lion ranging the 
forest, murmur that he can not, like the eagle, 
soar in the skies, as man repine at the different 
ranks and conditions with which God has diver- 
sified the human family. The pride and 
haughtiness, which the rich and distinguished 
sometimes assume, is exceedingly odious in the 
sight of God, and is severely condemned by the 
gospel. But those in humble life, often manifest 
an aspiring spirit equally displeasing to God, 
and contradictory to the precepts of the Savior. 

Paul has given very specific directions, to 
banish this spirit from the churches. And he 
found it as necessary to direct his cautions to 
the lowly in condition, as to the elevated in 
rank. It seems, that in those days some chris- 
tian servants, thought, that because they and 
their employers were members of the same 
church, and sat down at the same sacramental 
table, and hoped to be associate angels in Heav- 
en, that therefore there should be great equality 



THE CHURCH. 145 

and perfect familiarity here. This is the wick- 
ed spirit of unsanctified ambition. It still ex- 
ists, notwithstanding the reproof and warning it 
receives from the Apostle. Says Paul c let as 
many servants as are under the yoke count their 
own master as worthy of all honor, that the 
name of God and His doctrine be not blas- 
phemed. And they that have believing mas- 
ters, let them not despise them, because they 
are brethren, but rather do them service, be- 
cause they are faithful and beloved, partakers of 
the benefit.' 

This spirit harmonises with all the arrange- 
ments of God. Each one moves in his own 
sphere, calmly and happily, like the orbs of hea- 
ven. The employer and the employed regard 
each other with mutual confidence and affection, 
and there is the interchange of the most sincere 
kindness. These remarks apply to those rela- 
tions in life which are consistent with the prin- 
ciples of the Gospel, — with that universal feeling 
of brotherhood which Christianity enjoins. The 
despot and the oppressor will find no apologist 
at the day of judgment. He who, for Christ's 
sake, has patiently endured wrong and outrage, 
will then find his sorrows ended, while his op- 
pressor must abide the decision of an offended 

God. 

13 



146 THE GHURCH. 

Christian reader, cultivate a friendly acquaint- 
ance with the humble members of the church. 
Greet them kindly when you meet them. In 
sickness and in sorrow visit them. Be tender of 
their feelings, and by unfailing benevolence se- 
cure their good will. 

Are you in the humbler walks of life? Do 
not look with envy upon those who are above 
you in wealth or education, for this is censuring 
God. Improve your mind and add to your 
wealth, as much as you can, by honest industry, 
and be contented with your lot. With such a 
state of feeling in the church, dissension is but 
little to be feared. There will be a respect for 
each other's opinions, and a mutual spirit of 
conciliation which will ensure harmony of coun- 
sel. 

It is often in the power of one stubborn indi- 
vidual to keep a whole church for months in a 
state of disquietude. He will set up his will 
against the prayerful decisions of the whole 
church. He will persist in fomenting strife, 
though he knows it is destroying harmony and 
happiness. It is astonishing to see how much 
of passion and prejudice and unfairness he will 
allow himself to exhibit. Such a man is a ter- 
rible curse to a church. The ingredients of 
such a character are generally mortified pride, 



THE CHURCH. 147 

disappointed ambition, and self-confidence. He 
will deceive himself by supposing that he is con- 
tending for principle, when he is the victim of 
wilfulness. There seems to be no access to his 
understanding or his heart. All appeals to his 
Christian feelings are in vain. The united 
opinion of all his brethien is nothing to him. 
The decision of the most devoted ministers of 
God deserves no regard. The destruction of 
the church, the grief of his brethren and sisters, 
the exultation of the foes of Christ, the ruin of 
many souls, are all of no moment in his eyes, 
compared with having his own will. A church 
can hardly suffer a more severe calamity, than 
to have such a person in its enclosures. 

A man of pious feelings and humble frame of 
mind, will never place himself in such an atti- 
tude. If a decision is formed which, to him, 
appears incorrect, he will say, ' Brethren, my 
opinion is different, but I am led to distrust my 
own opinion from the unanimity with which you 
have come to a different decision. I know that 
I am not infallible, and I shall therefore cor- 
dially acquiesce in the result to which you have 
come. 5 Now who does not love such a spirit? 
Who is not compelled to love such a man? 
Suppose that it shall afterwards appear that this 
individual was right and the church were wrong, 



148 THE CHURCH. 

is there a single member of the church who 
would not be glad to take this brother by the 
hand and say, 'It would have been better for us 
if we had followed your opinion?' This is the 
spirit of mutual confidence and conciliation, 
which should ever be cherished. There is no 
infallibility here on earth. It is to be expected, 
not only that individuals will entertain wrong 
opinions, but that the churches will occasionally 
decide in a way that will not be for the best. 
There must always be a greater or less diver- 
sity of opinion upon almost every question which 
can come before the church. And while every 
member should be ready, frankly and kindly to 
express his own views, it should be the estab- 
lished and unalterable principle of every one, 
not merely patiently to submit to the decision of 
the majority, but with the utmost cheerfulness 
and good feeling to acquiesce in that decision. 
Or if the circumstances of the case are so very 
peculiar, that you feel that you cannot in con- 
science continue your relation with the church, 
remember that the other members have a con- 
science and rights as well as yourself, and ask 
for a letter of dismission, in those courteous and 
respectful terms which will ensure a kind reply. 
This is the spirit of the Gospel, and he who pur- 
sues a different course dishonors his Christian 



THE CHURCH. 149 

profession, and brings calamity and sorrow to 
the cause of Christ. Members of the church of 
Christ, resolve that there shall be peace in your 
borders. Do any thing but sin to ensure this 
peace. Make any sacrifice of your own opin- 
ions and your own interests to promote harmony. 
Then will the time be near, when the kingdom 
and dominion and the greatness of the kingdom 
under the whole heaven, shall be given to the 
people of the saints of the Most High. 

13* 



150 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 



CHAPTER V. 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 



" What kind of a man is the landlord with 
whom we lodge to-night? " said a gentleman to 
a stage-driver, as they were slowly ascending a 
hill in the interior of Maine. "He has one 
mark of a Christian," was the reply, "every 
body hates him." 

And is it true, that to be hated is one of the 
evidences of piety? The Gospel enjoins integ- 
rity, generosity, humility, kindness, charity, — 
every thing that is lovely and of good report. 
And can the practice of these moral precepts 
secure the hatred of mankind? No! look at the 
Christian, whether he be clergyman or layman, 
who most consistently carries out in bis conduct 
the principles of the Gospel, and you will find 
that he has the esteem and affection of the great 
mass of mankind. Was the philanthropic How- 
ard hated? Was the inflexible integrity of Wil- 
berforce despised? Was the amiable, the labo- 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 151 

rious, the self-denying Swartz, a man without 
friends? Occasionally we meet with a man who 
sustains the reputation of a very devoted Chris- 
tian, and who is still very obnoxious to the com- 
munity. But in every such case, we believe it 
will be found that it is some trait in his charac- 
ter, which is contrary to the spirit of the Gospel, 
which excites hostility. He is gloomy in his 
feelings, or harsh and uncivil in his intercourse 
with others, or austere in manners, or selfish and 
mean in his business transactions. These are 
the traits of character which excite opposition. 
Our Savior had so many friends, even among the 
wicked crowds of Jerusalem, that the rulers did 
not dare to lay hands upon him, for they feared 
the people. And at last it was with difficulty, 
and through false accusation, and by stratagem 
only, that they succeeded in leading him to the 
cross on Calvary. 

We have often thought that there was a great 
mistake, in most of our books upon practical re- 
ligion, in making such a separation between 
faith and works. Devotional feeling is too much 
disunited from those moral traits of character 
which are enjoined in the Gospel. True reli- 
gion embraces all the duties of life. And in the 
Bible we are as earnestly and as repeatedly en- 
treated to love our neighbor as ourselves, as to 



152 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

love God with the whole heart. It is not enough 
that we read the Bible, and pray, and examine 
our hearts, and meditate upon the eternal world — 
that we look to the Spirit for guidance, and to 
the Savior for salvation. We must be kindly 
affectioned one to another in brotherly love; we 
must be given to hospitality; we must be cour- 
teous; we must cherish every thing that is lovely 
and of good report. It is in consequence of this 
unnatural separation of devotional feeling from 
amiable character, that religion is often pre- 
sented in so obnoxious an aspect to the world. 
He who lives according to the moral precepts of 
the Gospel, while cherishing the feelings of pen- 
itence and faith which the Gospel inculcates, 
must commend himself to the approbation of 
every good understanding And I know not 
why it is not as criminal, to disobey the rules 
which God has given us for our intercourse with 
our fellow men, as to be forgetful of penitence 
and negligent of prayer. 

The fact is not to be disguised, that there is 
in this world much of loud vaunting profession 
of religion, without any of the genuine charac- 
teristics of godliness. Many a man will pray 
with fervor in his family, and be punctual in his 
attendance upon all the meetings of the church, 
and will pray earnestly for, and plead earnestly 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 153 

with sinners to repent, and will then go home, 
and be guilty of some petty meanness which ex- 
cites universal disgust. And as he sees the 
evidences that he is obnoxious to his neighbors, 
he presses to his soul the soothing sentiment, 
that it is the lot of the good man to be perse- 
cuted. He is despised for his meanness, and 
not for his piety; and he half knows it. Such a 
man seldom receives the contempt he merits. 
His Christian friends hope that he is a good 
man, and they try to look with charity upon his 
faults; they make excuses for him, and thus he 
is shielded. These cases are not rare. Almost 
every minister weeps over such perverted exhi- 
bitions of piety in his church. And it is not 
unfrequently the case, that a church mourns 
over the obstacles that their pastor thus throws 
in the way of the conversion of sinners. We 
sometimes see such a clergyman, uncouth in 
manners, and more so in heart, who ranges 
through his parish like a wild buffalo on the 
praries. He breaks over all the restraints of 
society, and violates all the civilities of life, and 
when he has arrayed every man in hostility to 
him, he says it is an evidence of his moral cour- 
age and his faithfulness, and comforts himself 
with saying, " Blessed are ye, when all men 
speak evil of you." Our Savior carefully 



154 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

guarded this sentiment by saying, " Blessed are 
ye when all men speak evil of you falsely" 
But he apparently thinks that this last word is 
of but little consequence, and that it may as 
well be omitted. 

In this chapter it will be my object to dwell 
upon that part of religion which consists in our 
duties to our fellow men. 

1. Be honest. Does it seem that this is a 
singular injunction to give to one who professes 
to be a Christian? Every day we hear com- 
plaints of the dishonesty of those who profess to 
be governed by Christian principle. A man 
goes to a pious mechanic to get some work done. 
He is promised it on a certain day. Now he 
ought to be as sure of having it on that day, as 
though the mechanic had given his bond, with a 
heavy penalty in case of failure. But is it so? 
Does the pious mantau-maker have the gown 
done at the appointed hour? Does the pious 
boot-maker send home the boots at the appointed 
day? And do either of these persons feel that 
they have committed a heinous sin against God 
and against man, in thus falsifying their word? 
No! they will go on, year after year, thus prom- 
ising that which they have no intention of per- 
forming. Here is moral dishonesty, spreading 
far and wide through the Christian community. 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 155 

We meet it every day. It is a grievous sin and 
a sad reproach to the cause of Christ. A min- 
ister, of rather quaint simplicity, in preaching 
to the church, adopted, as one head of his dis- 
course, the sentiment, " Some Christians will 
lie." Many may not be pleased with such 
Saxon plainness of speech; but it is a melan- 
choly fact that no one can be found who will 
deny its truth. When quite a young man, I 
once went to board in a family, in which a law- 
yer was also boarding. I was received into the 
family for half a dollar less a week than the 
lawyer. The gentleman of the house was a 
member of the church, but for fear that the law- 
yer would be dissatisfied if he should learn that 
I was paying less for board than himself, he 
wished that, if any questions were asked, I 
would intimate that we paid the same price. 
My conscience rebelled against this, and I told 
the man plainly that J could do no such thing. 
He therefore, to prevent the lawyer from ques- 
tioning me, and thus ascertaining the truth, 
took occasion to introduce the subject himself, 
and, probably, without the positive assertion that 
there was no difference in the prices we paid, 
carefully conveyed to his mind the idea that we 
were received upon the same terms. A few 
evenings after this, the lawyer and I happened 



156 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

to be sitting alone by the fire, just before retir- 
ing, when suddenly out came the question, 

' ' What do you pay for board here, Mr. 
A.?" 

"Two dollars and a half a week/' was the 
ready reply. To this the lawyer responded with 
a hearty and apparently exulting laugh, and then 
replied, 

"Our good, pious landlord told me that you 
paid three dollars; but I thought from his ap- 
pearance at the time, that he lied." 

Now what must have been the feelings of this 
lawyer, as he afterwards heard this man praying 
with his family, and saw him going to the com- 
munion table! And yet how full is the world of 
such falsehood as this! How many professing 
Christians have been detected in similar decep- 
tions, 

" Where have you been this afternoon?" said 
a gentleman pleasantly to his wife, as she re- 
turned home just before tea. 

"I have been to make a few calls," was the 
apparently frank and honest reply. 

Soon after a lady called in, and in the course 
of conversation said, in the simplicity of her 
heart, "What a delightful lecture we had this 
afternoon! I think I never heard a more inter- 
esting Sermon." 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 157 

The husband looked up with surprise. He 
saw at once that his wife tried to deceive him. 
His confidence in the honesty of her statements 
was at once destroyed. There can be no more 
harmony between that husband and wife. He 
knows that she is deceitful, and consequently 
can never trust her. 

The wife tries to appease the reproaches of 
conscience by saying, I uttered nothing that was 
false; I did go out to make some calls, and I did 
not say that I had not been to meeting too. 
But she cannot thus silence that faithful moni- 
tor which God has stationed in her breast. She 
knows that she tried to deceive her husband, 
and she feels mortified that she has been de- 
tected. In this she has sinned. And she has 
consequently lost her peace of mind, and many 
and sad woes will follow in the train of this 
moral delinquency. A little child has penetra- 
tion enough to understand this deception, and 
the mother who is guilty of it, not only loses the 
confidence of her husband, but instructs her 
children in fraud. Be honest. You cannot 
otherwise be happy or safe. 

" What is the price of this silk?" asks a pious 
lady of a shopkeeper. 

"One dollar and a quarter a yard," is the 

reply. 

14 



15S TO CR NEIGHBOR. 

" That is very high'," the lady rejoins; "I saw 
exactly such a piece as this in another store, for 
a dollar a yard." 

Now is this lady sure that the pieces are 
exactly the same? Is the texture of the one pre- 
cisely as fine as the texture of the other? Is she 
positive that there is not the difference of an 
inch or two in the width? By no means. She 
wickedly makes an assertion which she does not 
know to he true, that she may beat down the 
shopman's price. She is guilty of falsehood, 
and from the meanest motive — merely to save a 
few coppers on a yard of silk. A professor of 
religion will sometimes thus go, for a whole 
morning, from shop to shop, uttering in each 
one many false assertions. How is religion thus 
dishonored. True probity requires, not only 
that we should not say any thing that we know 
to be false, but that we also should make no as- 
sertions which we do not know to be accurately 
true. 

A Christian is long struggling under pecu- 
niary embarrassments. Every month he gets 
involved more deeply in responsibilities which 
he cannot meet. At last he is compelled to stop 
payment; his property is attached, and all his 
transactions are brought to light. Then come 
disclosures which cause exultation among the 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 159 

enemies of religion, and fill the hearts of Chris- 
tians with disappointment and sorrow. In all 
mercantile communities we find the records of 
the churches sullied with such cases of disci- 
pline. The property of every man is always, 
more or less, exposed to casualties; but his in- 
tegrity should never be endangered. No temp- 
tations should seduce him to enter upon transac- 
tions of questionable morality. If a man bor- 
rows money, when in circumstances in which 
the lender would fear to let him have it, if he 
knew what those circumstances were, he is mor- 
ally if not legally fraudulent. He is trampling 
upon that great principle of brotherhood, which 
the Bible enjoins, and God will not hold him 
guiltless. Let him not say, the temptation is 
great. He must not yield to the temptation. If 
necessary, he must let his property go, and save 
his character. Faith, without works, is dead. 
He, whose views of religion do not constrain him 
to be strictly upright in all his intercourse with 
his fellow men, is wretchedly deceived in his 
hopes He who blasphemes his God, is as well 
entitled to the name of Christian, as he who de- 
frauds his fellow. Essential as is faith in Christ 
to salvation, it is no more earnestly enjoined 
upon us than is integrity of heart and life. 
In other words, a deficiency of the latter should 



160 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 



be regarded as conclusive proof of entire desti- 
tution of the former. Reader, if you are not 
morally honest, do not pretend to be a Christian. 
If your promise is not as good as your bond; if 
your word is not as worthy of credit as your most 
solemn oath; if all your transactions with your 
fellow men are not in accordance with principles 
of perfect integrity, the less you say about reli- 
gion the better for yourself and for the cause of 
Christ. Christ expects that his disciples will be 
honest. The world expects that those who pro- 
fess to be governed by the principles of the Gos- 
pel, will be above any species of deception or 
fraud. And no man more thoroughly deserves 
contempt, and will more surely receive it, than 
the professing Christian whose word may not be 
depended upon, and whose transactions will not 
bear examination. 

Not long since there was, in a certain parish, 
unusual interest upon the subject of religion. It 
was one of those scenes of religious revival, in 
which nearly all the community were impressed 
with the importance of their eternal interests. 
A meeting was appointed in the vestry Sabbath 
evening. The house was crowded to overflow- 
ing. As the pastor enforced the claims of God's 
law, and unfolded the retributions of the eternal 
world, tears of solicitude and contrition gushed 



YOUR NEIGHBOR 161 

forth from many an eve. All hearts seemed 
moved like the leaves of the forest by the pass- 
ing wind. A member of the church was called 
upon to lead in prayer. He did it with the sin- 
cerity and the fervor of a truly good man. As 
he had adorned his profession for many years by 
an irreproachable life, all had confidence in him, 
and the conviction of the importance of religion 
was deepened upon the minds of the audience. 

There was a lawyer present, who was a mem- 
ber of the church. He was a hard man. He 
loved money, and seized it with an unyielding 
grasp. And though he never so grossly violated 
principles of honesty, as to expose himself to 
church censure, he was so often guilty of petty 
meanness, and made so many oppressive bar- 
gains, that he was almost universally obnoxious. 
This man rose to speak. He earnestly urged 
the duty of repentance, and the importance of 
preparing for heaven. All iooked at him with 
surprise. As he proceeded in his exhortation 
the tear was dried from almost every eye, and 
the feeling of religious concern was allayed in 
almost every heart. As he closed his remarks, 
nearly all appearance of religious interest had 
passed away; and, as the assembly retired in 
groups to their homes, many were heard to say, 
" If that man has religion, I wish for none of it." 
14* 



162 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

Opposers of religion pointed to him and said, 
" There is a specimen of what you call piety." 
As the pastor visited his parishioners during the 
week, he found that the remarks of this man had 
done incalculable injury. He found that the re- 
ligious interest was rapidly abating, and the 
abatement was distinctly traceable to this one 
cause. And solely on this account, he was un- 
der the necessity of preaching, the next Sabbath, 
upon the subject, that religion must not be con- 
demned in consequence of the misconduct of its 
professors. 

Reader, if your life does not conform to the 
principles you profess, say nothing about reli- 
gion. The louder your professions, and the 
more ardent your zeal, the worse it is for the 
cause of Christ. 

Rowland Hill relates an anecdote well worthy 
of preservation. "A barber, having amassed a 
comfortable independence, retired to his native 
place, where he became a preacher in a small 
chapel. Another person, from the same village, 
being similarly fortunate, settled there also, and 
attended the ministry of the barber. This per- 
son, wanting a new wig, said to his pastor, 'you 
might as well make it for me;' to which he as- 
sented. The wig was sent home, badly made, 
but charged at nearly double the usual price. 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 163 

The good man said nothing, but whenever any 
thing particularly profitable escaped the lips of 
the preacher, he observed to himself, c excellent — 
but oh! the wig.' When the barber prayed 
with apparent unction, he also thought, 'this 
should touch my heart,— -but oh! the icig.' Now 
my dear young brethren/ 5 says the venerable 
Rowland Hill, u wherever you are placed, re- 
member the wig" 

If you would be useful as a Christian, and 
enjoy peace of mind, you must so live, that every 
one who sees you will say, k There is an Israel- 
ite indeed, in whom there is no guile.' 

2. Be generous. See this Christian purchas- 
ing a coat. He iries to beat down the shop- 
keeper's price, and stands at his counter half an 
hour higgling, that he may save a few cents in 
the purchase. If he knows that the shopkeeper 
is in great want of money, and by taking advan- 
tage of his necessities, obtains the cloth at less 
than its original cost, he congratulates himself 
much upon his good bargain. He has no objec- 
tion at all, thus to transfer property from the 
pockets of his neighbor to his own. Conscience 
tells him that it is hardly consistent with that 
brotherly interest which Christianity enjoins, for 
him to manifest such selfishness. While he 
ought to desire to obtain his goods at a reasona- 



164 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

ble price, he ought also to desire that the mer- 
chant should make a fair proiit. Instead of ex- 
ulting that he can buy goods at less than cost, it 
should give him sincere pain that any one is 
under the necessity of making such a pecuniary 
sacrifice. One of these selfish, heartless men 
will try to appease the reproaches of conscience 
by saying, 'I am thus careful to save every cop- 
per, that I may have more money to give to be- 
nevolent objects.' In other words, he implies 
that God wants dollars more than generous souls. 
To say nothing of the impiety of such an impu- 
tation, there is no sincerity in it. Almost inva- 
riably, when any application is made to such a 
man, in behalf of the needy at home or abroad, 
he holds his money with a grasp which hardly 
any appeal can unclench. 

We once knew a clergyman of eminent abili- 
ties and devoted zeal, who was execrated by 
every shopkeeper in the village in which he re- 
sided. He would never buy if he could borrow. 
And when compelled to buy, no price could be 
moderate enough to satisfy his desires. He was 
a bye-word and a scoffing to nearly all his neigh- 
bors, in consequence of the meanness he mani- 
fested in every business transaction. He thus 
not only greatly impaired his own influence, but 
prejudiced the whole community against the re- 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 



165 



Jigion he preached. He grew rich, of course; 
but with increasing riches there was increasing 
parsimony. And though he would occasionally 
contribute, with considerable liberality, to some 
object of benevolence, the influence of his exam- 
ple upon the community around him, was infi- 
nitely disastrous. Error was strengthened, and 
sinners were confirmed in irreligion. Whatever 
good might have been conferred upon the cause 
of Christ, by his pecuniary contributions, was 
vastly more than counterbalanced by his influ- 
ence upon his own neighborhood. 

Probably the only reason why God asks for 
money in the promotion of his cause, is that he 
may cultivate, in the hearts of his children, feel- 
ings of generosity. The treasury of the Al- 
mighty needs no leplenishing. He might raise 
thousands of servants, and send them to and fro 
through the world, to proclaim his cause, and 
feed them with the manna of heaven, and clothe 
them by his own care. He might send from 
heaven an army of angels to accomplish his pur- 
poses. God does not need our coppers. He has 
seen fit, in his wisdom, to make use of human 
instrumentality in the conversion of the world, 
and he calls upon his children for their pecuni- 
ary aid and their voluntary labors, not for his 
good, but for their own. A man may as reason- 



166 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

ably hope to please God by stealing money to 
contribute to benevolent objects, as to raise it 
for that purpose by meanness. It is an insult to 
the character of our Maker, to suppose that he 
can accept of such offerings. 

The Christian should be a high-minded, gen- 
erous man. He should desire to pay a fair price 
for every thing that he buys. And while he 
should be diligent in business, and prudent in 
his expenditures, and while he should guard, 
with the utmost caution, against extravagance 
and prodigality, he should avoid every thing that 
appears even small or ungenerous. In making 
change, let him not try to save the doubtful half 
cent. Many a Christian has, by saving half a 
cent in making change, fixed an indelible preju- 
dice upon an immortal mind against religion. 
By pursuing this course, you may not be able to 
wear quite so fine a coat as you otherwise would 
wear. You may not enjoy so many luxuries. 
But you will have a generous soul, and that is 
in itself an inestimable reward. You will have 
the confidence and the esteem of the commu- 
nity, and that is a priceless blessing. And, 
above all, you will adorn the glorious Gospel of 
our God and Savior; you will disarm prejudice, 
and allure others to that religion which bears 
such fruit. Do you wish to unite with your 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 16? 

neighbor in doing any work which will be for 
your mutual advantage — in putting up a fence 
or digging a drain> or repairing the road? Be 
always ready in doing a little more than your 
part. Does your neighbor, of equal property, 
take a newspaper? Do not borrow it of him 
without conferring favors in return, which shall 
be fully equivalent. Does your neighbor wish 
to borrow your newspaper? Most freely and 
most cheerfully loan it to him, without expecting 
any return. You may in this way, perhaps, 
leave a few hundred dollars less to your heirs; 
but you leave to them the influence of your ex- 
ample, and the remembrance of your virtues. 
You will leave behind you the savor of a good 
name. And above all, religion will be honored 
in the eyes of the community by your example. 
Your happiness does not consist in the texture 
of your coat, or the richness of your furniture, 
or your shares in bank stock. It consists in the 
wealth and dignity of your soul. You must look 
within you for the sources of true joy. Covetous- 
ness demeans the soul, and destroys its capabil- 
ity of happiness. If you can see in your soul 
the secret windings of this hateful serpent, 
crush its head. The poor man may be bounti- 
ful and magnanimous, as well as the rich man; 
nay, he more frequently is so. It is the man 



168 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

who is comparatively rich, who is generally seen 
to be mean and niggardly. 

But here let us more particularly remember 
that generosity and prodigality are as different 
as are virtue and vice. We must be just, as 
well as generous. See this man going from 
store to store, buying freely at any prices, hav- 
ing it charged on a running account, and entire- 
ly unmindful that a pay day is soon to come. 
He is as open-handed as the day. By and by 
the shop-keeper sends in his bill; but there is no 
money to pay for it. Another bill is sent in, but 
it cannot be paid. Pecuniary embarrassments 
gather around the man, and he struggles as he 
works himself deeper and deeper into debt. He 
fails. His property pays twenty-five cents on 
the dollar, and his creditors lose the rest. Is 
this generosity? No! it is fraud. The man 
who thus trifles with the property of another is 
guilty in the sight of God, and he must answer 
for his crime at that bar where Christ sits in 
righteous judgment. Generosity is a sad mis- 
nomer for such conduct as this. 

A gentleman once dined at the table of a poor 
clergyman. The fare was frugal in the extreme. 
The clergyman made a brief and appropriate 
apology, by saying, J My wife, sir, is generous, 
but she is just; it is only by extreme economy 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 169 

that we are able, with our income, to meet our 
expenses. 5 This man was truly generous. He 
would do no mean thing. He wished to pay a 
fair price for whatever he bought, and if he 
could not afford to purchase one thing, he would 
take another. But he was also just. He would 
not involve himself in debt which he had no 
means of paying. He would not live freely at 
the expense of others. Christian reader, let 
your motto be, generous, but just. 

3. Be open-hearted. Sometimes we see a 
man who has all his feelings and opinions locked 
up in his own heart. He talks mysteriously, 
and with Jesuitical skill. Every word is uttered 
with a most important and cautious air, as though 
he were saying, 'I know a great many things 
which it would not be proper to reveal. I am a 
very prudent man, and very guarded in my 
speech.' Said a gentleman, after conversing 
half an hour with such a man, ' Thank heaven, 
I have none of that sneaking virtue called pru- 
dence. 5 Genuine prudence is a heavenly virtue 
of priceless worth. But this sly, underhand, in- 
sinuating mysteriousness is any thing but a vir- 
tue. It is an offence to every candid mind. 
We have sometimes seen a foolish school-boy 
get some little thing in a box, and then run 
about among his playmates, triumphantly shak- 
15 



170 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

ing it, and exclaiming to one and another, 'You 
do not know what I have got here;' thus endeav- 
oring to excite curiosity and to leave it ungrati- 
tied. Thus will one of these self-styled prudent 
men, if he is so fortunate as to catch a secret, 
walk about among his friends and acquaintances, 
with mysterious and pompous solemnity of coun- 
tenance, intimating to every one, i Some very 
important information has been entrusted me, 
but I am so prudent that I shall not reveal it.' 
Why does he do so? He is influenced by vanity. 
He wishes you to think that be is very much in 
the confidence of others. There can be no gen- 
uine prudence without candor and open-hearted- 
ness. If you have any information which it is 
improper to communicate, do not, by affected 
airs, tell every body of it, but leave it quietly to 
sleep in your own mind, and be frank and guile- 
less in your social intercourse. ' What kind of 
a man is Mr. B.V said one gentleman to anoth- 
er. 'I am not in the habit of talking about my 
neighbors,' was the reply of the prudent man. 
Such a reply is, first, insulting; for it says to the 
gentleman inquiring, * You have no business to 
ask such a question.' It is, secondly, slander- 
ous; for it decisively, yet not honestly, says, 'He 
is such a bad man, that I will say nothing about 
him.' Now if this is prudence, it is in truth a 






YOUR NEIGHBOR. 171 

sneaking virtue. One may be honest and frank 
and civil, without slandering his neighbors. 

Another man seems to feel that nothing must 
be done in a strait forward way. He covets the 
reputation of being a good manager. Every 
plan must be accomplished by manceuvering. 
If a thing is done openly and frankly, he thinks 
it must be done without skill. One of these 
shrewd, artful men insinuates himself around, 
here and there, prying into one man's concerns, 
and whispering to another; here giving a know- 
ing wink, and there laughing in his sleeve, till 
he loses the confidence of every one, in the ac- 
quired reputation of artfulness or cunning. The 
idea of strait forward dealing never enters his 
mind. 'He drinks his tea by stratagem.' 

There is no religion in all this. A man 
should deprecate the reputation of being a cun- 
ning man, — an artful manceuverer, — as much as 
he would the accusation of meanness or fraud. 
If you cannot accomplish your benevolent de- 
signs openly and candidly, let them fail. Leave 
stratagem and wiles to Satan; they are his con- 
genial weapons. God will not thank you for in- 
troducing such allies into his service. 

A distinguished clergyman once advised a 
young man, just entering a place of unusual re- 
sponsibility, never to do any thing which he was 



172 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

unwilling to have known, and then, said he, you 
will always feel safe. Better advice could hardly 
have been given. 

If you wish to lend a thoughtless friend a re- 
ligious book, do it openly and frankly, and do 
not pretend to do it by accident. If you wish to 
introduce a friend to an evening lecture, give 
him an honest invitation, and do not take him 
there by guile. In every thing that you do, be 
as open-hearted as the day. Then will you feel 
peace, and those who are around you, fearing no 
stratagem, will give you their confidence. 

How pleasant is it to meet a friend, who has 
benignity and frankness ever upon his counte- 
nance. You have entire confidence in his sin- 
cerity, and all his actions are as undisguised as 
the sun-light. You feel at perfect ease in his 
society, and are in no fear of pious or impious 
frauds. You cannot withhold your confidence 
from such a spirit, for you know that his good 
will is unfeigned, and that no plots are laid to 
entrap you to good or to evil. 

This is the spirit the Christian should cherish. 
Then he fears no detection. His mind is as 
calm and tranquil as a summer's day. 

4. Be polite. A clergyman once said, that it 
was beneath the dignity of a Christian to be a 
gentleman. His practice was consistent with 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 173 

his principle. Rude in feelings, and unculti- 
vated in manners, he trampled upon a; I the 
civilities of life, and rendered himself almost 
universally obnoxious. Though every man can- 
not be acquainted with the rules of highly re- 
fined society, no one is excusable for being harsh 
and rude, and uncivil. He who has a heart 
glowing with kindness and good will towards his 
fellow men, and who is guided in the exercise of 
these feelings by good common sense, is the 
truly polite man. Politeness does not consist in 
wearing a white silk glove, and in gracefully 
lifting your hat as you meet an acquaintance; it 
does not consist in artificial smiles and flatter- 
ing speech, but in sincere and honest desires to 
promote the happiness of those around you; in 
the readiness to sacrifice your own ease and 
comfort to add to the enjoyments of others. 
The poor negro women, who found Mungo Park 
perishing under the palm trees of Africa, and 
who led him to their hut, and supplied him with 
food, and lulled him to sleep with their simple 
songs, were genuinely polite. They addressed 
him in language of kindness and sympathy; they 
led him tenderly to their home, and did all in 
their power to revive his drooping spirits. 

A poor drover was driving his beeves to the 
market, in a winter's day. The cattle met a 
15* 



174 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

lady in the path, and, apparently unconscious of 
the impoliteness, compelled the lady to turn one 
side into the snow. ' Madam,' said the drover, 
apologising for the rudeness of his herd, - if the 
cattle knew as much as I do, you should not 
walk in the snow. 5 That drover was, in the 
best sense of the term, a gentleman; while many 
a young man, in Washington-street, or Broad- 
way, with glove and cane and graceful step, is a 
brute. 

The man, who lays aside all selfishness, in 
regard to the happiness of others, who is ever 
ready to confer favors, who speaks in language 
of kindness and conciliation, and who studies to 
manifest those little attentions which gratify the 
heart, is a polite man, though he may wear a 
homespun coat, and make a very ungraceful 
bow. And many a fashionable, who dresses 
genteely, and enters the most crowded apart- 
ments with assurance and ease, is a perfect com- 
pound of rudeness and incivility. True polite- 
ness is a virtue of the understanding and of the 
heart. It is not like the whited sepulchre, or 
like Sodom's far famed fruit. There are no 
rules, for the exercise of this virtue, more correct 
and definite than those laid down in the New 
Testament. There is no book of politeness com- 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 175 

parable with the Bible. Let us examine some 
of these directions. 

"Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for 
them that despitefully use you and persecute 
you. See that ye love one another with a pure 
heart fervently. Love worketh no ill to his 
neighbor, By love serve one another. 

"Cease from anger and forsake wrath. He 
that is soon angry dealeth foolishly. A soft 
answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words 
stir up anger. 

"Love peace. Have peace one with another. 
If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live 
peaceably with all men. Live in peace, and the 
God of all peace shall be with you. 

"Thou shalt honor the face of the old man. 
Be kindly affectioned one to another in broth- 
erly love, in honor preferring one another. In 
lowliness of mind let each esteem others better 
than themselves. 

"Let us not be weary with well doing. As we 
have opportunity let us do good unto all men. 
Do good and lend, hoping for nothing again. 
Charge them that are rich, that they do good; 
that they be rich in good works. To do good 
and communicate forget not, for with such sac- 
rifices God is well pleased. 



176 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

"Brethren be all of one mind, having compas- 
sion, one of another. Rejoice with them that 
do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. 
Bear ye one another 5 s burdens and so fulfil the 
law of Christ. Be pitiful, be courteous 

"The fruit of the spirit is gentleness, kindness. 
The wisdom from above is pure, peaceable, 
gentle. The servant of the Lord must be gen- 
tle. 

"Be ye kind one to another, tender hearted. 
Be kindly arTectioned one to another. Put on 
as the elect of God, holy and beloved, bowels of 
mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meek- 
ness. Add to godliness brotherly kindness.' ; 

Can a person obey such precepts as these, 
and yet be rude and uncivil? can he take these 
rules for his guide, and yet not be in heart a 
gentleman? It is impossible. These directions 
contain the very essence of genuine politeness. 
And these rules can be practiced by all — by 
the noble in his princely mansion, and by the 
poor and lonely farmer, in his log house in the 
wilderness. Says Dr. Johnson, "I have, in- 
deed, not found, among any part of mankind 
less real and rational complaisance, than among 
those who have passed their time in paying and 
receiving visits, in frequenting public entertain- 
ments, in studying the exact measures of cere- 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 177 

mony, and in watching all the variations of 
fashionable courtesy. 

"They know indeed at what hour they shall 
be at the door of an acquaintance, how many 
steps they must attend him towards the gate, 
and what interval should pass before his visit is 
returned; but seldom extend their care beyond 
the exterior or unessential part of civility, nor 
refuse their own vanity any gratification, how- 
ever expensive to the quiet of another." 

No one can be excusable who has not this 
genuine politeness of the heart. It is an im- 
portant part of religion. The christian should 
not only studiously strive to cherish these feel- 
ings, but while avoiding foppery and affectation, 
should endeavor to cultivate agreeable manners, 
and avoid every practice which is offensive. 
There is no occasion for any one, however poor 
or humble he may be in life, to be vulgar and 
brutish. Let your language be mild and be- 
nignant, according to the injunctions of the 
Bible. Have that regard to the feelings of 
others which you would wish others to have for 
your own. Treat those with deference and 
respect who are deserving of respect, and treat 
all with kindness, and you are a christian gen- 
tleman, though your days may be passed in 
hard labor, and your hand may never have been 



178 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 



covered with a glove. It is as contrary to Chris- 
tianity to be rude and uncivil, as it is to be a 
slanderer or a debauchee. Discourtesy is sin. 
He whose heart is truly imbued with the spirit 
of the gospel, can not be ungentlemanly. He 
may not have ease and polish of person, but he 
will be mild and affectionate and benevolent. 
He will study to avoid every thing that is offen- 
sive to others, and will do what he can to pro- 
mote the enjoyment of those around him. 

Sometimes we meet with a Christian who 
prides himself upon being a plain spoken man. 
He pays no regard to the feelings of others. 
He apparently loves to shew his contempt of all 
the civilities of life. Such a man is about half 
a savage. The ingredients of his character are 
ignorance, self conceit, and spiritual pride. 
Rudeness he calls candor, brutality, frankness, 
and insolence, christian fidelity. It is lamenta- 
ble to see such a man, dishonoring religion, by 
professing to be governed by its principles. He 
always makes difficulty, and is always in diffi- 
culty. You can do nothing with him, but let 
him alone; — and in all probability he will not 
let you do that. "Seest thou a man who is 
wise in his own conceit? there is more hope of 
a fool than of him." 

5. Be a good neighbor. Among the pleas- 
ant things which are enjoyed here on earth, one 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 179 

of the most desirable is, to have good neighbors. 
And there are but few annoyances more vexa- 
tious than those caused by neighbors who are 
fault finding, censorious, and disobliging. It is 
vain for any man to pretend that he is governed 
by the principles of the gospel, if he does not 
exhibit in his character the feelings inculcated 
in the precept, "thou shalt love thy neighbor 
as thyself.'' This should teach us to do 
every thing in our power to avoid exposing a 
neighbor to trouble or expense, while it 
should be our great pleasure to confer favors. 
If your neighbor does any thing, that is tres- 
passing upon your rights, quietly submit to 
it, unless it be of such a nature that you feei 
in duty bound to remonstrate. But be very 
careful never to be guilty of a similar wrong 
yourself. 

A man wished to drain a marshy pool in his 
garden, and very impudently turned the water 
in, under the fence, to his neighbor's garden. 
The gentleman whose rights were thus invaded 
was a christian. He said nothing, but immedi- 
ately employed a man to dig a trench and pro- 
vide for the removal of the water. He greeted 
his neighbor, as he daily met him, with his ac- 
customed cordiality, and was more careful than 
ever to set him the examples of integrity and 



180 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

high minded generosity. Whether the man 
who was guilty of this meanness ever felt 
ashamed of his conduct, we cannot tell, but this 
we know, that the harmony which- had existed 
between the two families, was uninterrupted, 
and they lived, side by side, year after year, in 
perfect peace. 

Said another one, who lived near by, and 
witnessed this transaction. "It is an outrage 
that I would not tolerate. I would build a 
strong dam by the side of my fence and drive 
the water back again upon him." This is the 
spirit of the world. Let us see how this plan 
would have worked. In the first place it would 
have enraged the individual thus frustrated in 
his sordid undertaking. And the more fully 
conscious lie was that he was in the wrong, the 
more would his malignity have been excited. 
We can better bear the injuries which others 
inflict upon us, than the consciousness that it is 
our own dishonorable conduct, which has in- 
volved us in difficulties. Ke immediately 
would have adopted retaliatory measures, and 
either have thrust his bar through the opposing 
wall, or have contrived some other scheme, by 
which he might annoy his adversary. Provoca- 
tions and retaliations would have ensued in 
rapid succession. A family feud would at once 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 181 

have been kindled, extending to the children as 
well as the parents, which probably would never 
have been extinguished. Immediately there 
would have ensued a train of petty annoyances, 
leading eventually to an expensive lawsuit, and 
embittering years of life. 

As it was, the christian gentleman governed 
his conduct by the principles of the gospel. He 
submitted to the wrong; and probably by sub- 
mitting to it, in the spirit which Christian- 
ity enjoins, converted the event into a bles- 
sing to himself, his family and his neigh- 
bor. He let alone strife before it was meddled 
with. The harmony of the families was not 
disturbed. The occurrence was forgiven, and 
in a few days forgotten, and they lived years, 
side by side in friendship and prosperity and 
perfect peace. Is it not better to follow the 
advice God gives, than to surrender ourselves to 
the dominion of our own passions. The man 
who adopts for his motto, "I will not be imposed 
upon, 55 who resolves to contend against any, and 
every infringement of his rights, at all hazards, 
pays dearly for his inflexibility. He thinks that 
he knows what course is best for his interests, 
better than God, and acting accordingly, he 
must endure the consequences. He must live 
upon the boisterous ocean of contention, and his 
16 



182 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

heart must be like the troubled sea, that casts 
up mire and dirt. We must learn to submit to 
many wrongs. We must not keep too strict an 
account of debtor and creditor with our neigh- 
bors. We must freely confer favors, but reluct- 
antly tax the benevolence of others. 

The Bible inculcates upon us the great truth, 
that we are all members of one common family, 
having one common father, and we should re- 
gard every member of the human family as a 
brother and a friend. Let this principle get 
full possession of the heart, and we shall be 
continually casting oil upon the troubled waters 
of life. Neighbors will reciprocate kindness 
like affectionate brothers. They will overlook 
those infirmities to which we all are liable, and 
seek to promote another's welfare as well as 
their own. 

How many opportunities are presented in the 
varying events of every family, in which there 
is a call for the assistance and the sympathies 
of neighbors. Often a kind expression of in- 
terest is of more value than words can describe. 
It comes as a balm to the heart. Your neigh- 
bor's family is sick. Kind inquiries sent to the 
door, or a message of condolence to the sick 
one, confers real gratification. God has so con- 
stituted the human heart, that nothing affords 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 183 

it more pleasure, than the consciousness of the 
interest and the affection of others, and but few 
sorrows are harder to bear, than those occasion- 
ed by indifference and neglect. These little 
acts of neighborly kindness do much towards 
smoothing the rugged path of life. 

I remember being deeply impressed in early 
childhood, with the value of a slight attention of 
this kind. There was a gentleman from Hol- 
land, of elevated rank in his native land, and 
highly cultivated mind and polished manners, 
who, by many reverses of fortune, lost health 
and property, and in a confirmed consumption, 
was languishing in his chamber, entirely de- 
pendant upon the kindness of his friends. To 
one accustomed to the walks of luxury and to 
the deference of high station, this situation 
must have been most acutely painful. He how- 
ever submitted to it with the dignity of a gen- 
tleman and the fortitude of a christian. An 
aged lady, to whose bounty he had been indebt- 
ed for many favors was also taken sick, and 
prostrated, apparently upon a bed of death. As 
they were both confined to their beds, kind mes- 
sages of inquiry daily passed between them. 
One afternoon, the gentleman with languid 
hand took from beneath his pillow his snuff box, 
and taking from it a pinch, sent it with his af- 



184 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

fectionate regards to his sick friend, for her to 
partake with him, of the narcotic, equally grate- 
ful to both. As the infirm lady reached out her 
hand to the open box, her eyes were moistened 
with tears, and her heart was filled with pleas- 
urable emotions in receiving an attention so 
delicate and so expressive. Such an evidence 
of sincere and heartfelt kindness called into ex- 
ercise the very finest emotions of the soul. It 
is by cherishing this class of feelings, and by 
manifesting them in our intercourse with others, 
that we are to exhibit the spirit of the gospel. 
We are glad to believe that the day of snuff 
boxes is fast passing away, but we rejoice in 
the hope that the day of neighborly kindness 
and refined attentions is more rapidly approach- 
ing. . 

This is a cold and unfeeling world. In the 
eager pursuit of wealth and honor, the best af- 
fections of the heart are crushed. The profes- 
sed disciples of Jesus live in most criminal con- 
formity to these prevailing habits. And thus, 
among christians, there are heart burnings and 
jealousies, contentions and strife. But our 
great business here on earth, is to cultivate those 
feelings which are to fit us for our Heavenly home. 
We are to live as an angel would live, were he 
to come to pass a few years among men, with 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 185 

a heart glowing with the benevolence and the 
purity and the love of Heaven. Let your im- 
agination wing its flight to that blissful world. 
Contemplate some scene of angels, as they go 
in and out of blest mansions, or congregate in 
bands for praise or joy. Imagine the benignity 
that lights up every countenance, the limitless 
benevolence that glows in every heart. Then 
turn to earth, and, as far as in you lies, bring 
this spirit to earth. So cultivate these graces 
of manners and of the mind, as to shew by your 
life that religion is in truth the spirit of hea- 
ven. 

6. Take an interest in the spiritual welfare of 
your neighbors. It is immortality which consti- 
tutes the dignity of man. It is that intermin- 
able existence, reaching onward beyond the 
grave, which invests life with its tremendous 
importance. We are assured by Him who can- 
not be deceived, that the existence here com- 
menced on earth, never, never shall terminate. 
Though this globe may crumble; though the 
sun, which has so long blazed in the heavens, 
may go out in eternal night; though all the 
worlds, which an Almighty hand has scattered 
through infinity, may fall and decay like the 
leaves of autumn, the soul of man, unimpaired 
in its energies, shall survive all. 
16* 



186 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

1 The sun is but a spark of fire, 
A transient meteor in the sky. ■ 

The scul, immortal as its sire, 
Shall never die.' 

With what grandeur does this invest the na- 
ture of roan! Immortality! who can conceive 
the idea? What imagination can reach onward 
in the comprehension of the limitless ages in 
which the mind is destined to exist? When we 
compare the threescore years and ten of human 
life, with the millions and millions yet untold of 
coming ages, oh what a speck, what a nothing- 
ness, does life become! Various illustrations 
have been suggested to convey to the mind some 
idea of illimitable duration. It has been said, 
suppose one drop of the ocean should be dried 
up every thousand years; how long would it be 
before the last drop should disappear, and the 
ocean's bed be left dry and dusty? Far onward 
as that would be in coming ages, eternity would 
but have commenced. It would still be in its 
earliest hours of infancy. 

It has been said, suppose that this vast globe 
upon which we tread were composed of particles 
of the finest sand, and that one particle should 
disappear at the termination of each million of 
years; oh, how inconceivably immense must be 
the period which would elapse before the last 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 187 

particle would be gone! And yet eternity would 
then be in its morning twilight; the immortal 
spirit would then have but just entered upon its 
interminable career. 

It has been said, suppose some little insect, so 
small as to be imperceptible to the human eye, 
were to carry this world ; by its tiny mouthfuis, 
to the most distant star the hand of God has 
placed in the heavens. Hundreds of millions of 
years are required for the performance of a sin- 
gle journey. The insect commences upon the 
leaf of a tree, and takes its little load, so small 
that even the microscope cannot discover that it 
is gone, and sets out upon its almost endless 
journey. After millions and millions of years 
have rolled away, it arrives back again to take 
its second load. Oh, what interminable ages 
must pass before the one leaf would be removed! 
In what period of coming time would the whole 
tree be borne away? When would the forest be 
gone? And when would that insect take the 
last particle of this globe, and bear it away in 
its long, long journey? Even then, eternity 
would but have commenced. The spirit then in 
existence would still look forward to eternity, 
endless, unchangeable, illimitable, rolling before 
it. Oh! the mind sinks down perfectly exhaust- 
ed with such contemplations. Yes! our exist- 



188 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

ence runs parallel with that of God. So long as 
he endures, so long shall that flame, which he 
has breathed into our bosoms, glow and burn; 
but it must glow in the brilliance and the beauty 
of heaven, or burn with lurid flame and unex- 
tinguishable wo. We may exist, exulting before 
the throne of God; interchanging sweet sympa- 
thy with angels of loftiest nature; flying as glit- 
tering seraphs amid heaven's indescribable 
splendor: 



* Winged on the winds, and warbling hymns of love, 
Behold the blessed soar to worlds above. 5 



We may be enduring the most irrepressible ago- 
ny, during all those periods of duration which 
no combination of numbers can compute. 



' The curs'd, with hell uncovered to the eye, 
Shriek, shriek, and vanish with a whirlwind cry.' 



While therefore we should do all in our power 
to alleviate every temporal sorrow, and to pro- 
mote earthly happiness; while we should desire 
to see every human habitation filled with domes- 
tic joy; we should ever remember that there is 
something else demanding our attention infi- 
nitely more important. The blessings which 
elevate man, and cheer his path for a few years 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 189 

alone, are soon lost and forgotten in the realities 
of unending ages. That period of man's history 
will soon arrive, in which it will be of no mo- 
ment how many trials and sorrows were scat- 
tered in his earthly path. The one great object 
to be attained in life, is to save the soul from the 
fearful consequences of sin; to lead the immortal 
spirit to the congenial home of its immortality; 
to ennoble him with heavenly purity, that he 
may be raised to his native skies, and his heart 
be filled with that happiness which is found at 
God's right hand. 

It is for the salvation of the soul, above all 
things else, that we should feel and pray and 
labor; that when corruption breaks down the 
mortal body, and the spirit returns to God who 
gave it, it may then range infinity, buoyant with 
life, and through eternity glow and burn with the 
raptures of adoration. It is consequently one of 
the most important of every man's duties, to try 
to exert a Christian influence upon those around 
him; to lead sinners to penitence and to Christ. 
Your neighbors are especially intrusted to your 
Christian sympathies. You should watch for 
opportunities to do them good. While guarding 
against all incivility or unauthorised intrusion, 
you should embrace every favorable opportunity 
to lead the mind to contemplate responsibility 



199 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

at God's bar, a Savior's dying love, the Spirit's 
earnest pleadings. If yon have a heart glowing 
with Christian feeling, the exercise of ordinary 
good sense will shew you when you may with 
propriety invite him to accompany you to an 
evening meeting, or to meet with a few Chris- 
tian friends in your own house for prayer; when 
you may loan him a serious book, or address him 
personally and directly upon the interests of his 
soul. With good common sense and right feel- 
ings, we cannot easily err upon these points. 
Take your neighbor's hand, as he lies upon his 
bed, prostrate with sickness, and direct his 
thoughts to the Savior bleeding for his sins. 
Speak to the mother, as she looks with tearful 
eyes upon the sick and suffering babe she holds 
in her arms, of the Savior who has said, suffer 
little children to come unto me, and forbid them 
not — and who, by this affliction, is endeavoring 
to wean her heart from the world. 

The habit, which some professed Christians 
fall into, of continually moralizing, disgusts and 
repels; especially does it do so, if one is guilty 
of dishonorable actions, and manifests, by his 
own life, the grasping spirit of the world. If 
your habits of life are not conformable with the 
precepts of the Gospel, the less you say about 
the Gospel the better. Kind admonition, sup- 



YOUR NEIGHBOR. 191 

ported by the influence of corresponding exam- 
ple, is almost irresistible. 

While yon feel this especial interest for those 
who are peculiarly exposed to the influence of 
your avowed feelings and allowed practices, you 
should also remember that, in the sense of the 
Bible, every individual in this sinful and suffer- 
ing world is your neighbor. You should feel for 
the spiritual wants of the whole human family; 
for the benighted tribes roving in our western 
wilderness; for the unnumbered millions of 
China; for the wretched idolaters of India; for 
the benighted multitudes dwelling in the islands 
of the sea. You should enlist, with all your 
energies, in the great enterprise of converting a 
lost world to God. This is an object worth liv- 
ing for — worth dying for. Where is there a 
heart which can feel, that will not feel in such a 
cause as this. Where is the bosom, susceptible 
of a generous emotion, that will not throb with 
its warmest pulsations, in view of such an enter- 
prise? Oh! it is a glorious thing, to be co- 
workers with God, in the deliverance of a world 
from the slavery of sin. 

Such is the mode of life the Bible enjoins, — 
the path of happiness which the Bible points out. 
No one has ever entered this path, and been de- 
ceived in his hopes. Every other course of life 



192 YOUR NEIGHBOR. 

has been tried, again and again, with never- 
failing disappointment. Why can we not learn 
by the experience of ages? Why w T ill we not 
heed the testimony which comes from every 
dying bed? Why will we not regard the declar- 
ations of God? Reader! obey these directions, 
and you will find that wisdom's ways are ways 
of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. 



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